I was sure the bears would have torn me to crumbs if given the chance. I didn’t know cold like that existed: biting, tearing, numbing cold that stuck to the ends of my hair. Light cut like blades against the snow, and my eyes may as well have bled for the first few hours. The people were too big, my clothes were too small, and I still can’t feel my knees.
And it was beautiful.
iamstevennight said: Alt!
Qiu Van Quinn — Human Thief, World of Warcraft.
I am a liar. I am a failure. I am scum.
I remember their faces, their anger, her dagger. The look of disappointment. My cowardice.
I remember how my eyes felt as my body floated to the surface, my lungs filled with water, paralyzed. They felt glazed over, hard to close, eyes fixed on the stars before the darkness took over my vision.
This was the boldest thing I’ve ever done… they had left, they couldn’t kill me because I didn’t have a backbone. They’re right, I don’t… all I have are my lies. These lies, they take me to a different place, a different person, someone who isn’t a coward like my real identity. These lies… they help me forget…
This is the boldest thing I’ve ever done…
"Do you love me?" I’d ask every time he’d finish. I heard that’s what adults did… because they loved each other, I assumed that was prerequisite for what he would do to me when no one else was home.
"Do you love me?"
I think I was 12 when this first happened. Qaprice would play with her friends, father would go to work, and I’d stay home reading. Books helped me escape from this reality I didn’t understand. When he’d cover my mouth to silence my crying, I’d think of far away places. When my body couldn’t take his weight, I’d think about all the names of languages in the world to keep my mind off of the pressure on my ribs… I’d repeat it over and over… Common, Darnassian, Orcish, Gnomish, Dwarven…
I loved him. He was attractive… handsome, probably had an equally as attractive wife with children around my age. I loved him because I had to… if I didn’t love him, what he did to me wouldn’t be right… but I couldn’t help but hate him for taking away my innocence, my trust for others. Most of all, I hated myself… hated for loving him, hated for not telling anyone or not fighting back… hated how I always felt like I was drowning.
"Do you love me?" I repeated as he put on his Stormwind Guard armor. He’d look at me coldly before putting his helm on as he exited through the door.
These lies… they help me forget.
I feel like I’m starting to forget what’s reality and what’s fiction… like I’m losing grip on my sanity.
These lies… become my sanity.
I remember their faces as I floated to the surface. I remember losing my will to live, slowly feeling my cavities fill with water, air compress and escape from my mouth. Her face, her disappointment… I didn’t want to lie to her after our first meeting and that was the truth. I remember regaining my consciousness. Suicide… I couldn’t even do that right.
I washed up on the side of the pond, expelling the water that I’d hope would kill me. I don’t know what saved me, but I know my lies didn’t.
I must’ve walked back to Stowmwind because I found myself sitting in my old house. He was in the doorway and closed it slowly as he walked toward me. My body was still soaking. Is this real?
Common, Darnassian, Orcish, Gnomish, Dwarven… Common, Darnassian, Orcish, Gnomish, Dwarven…
I know he didn’t love me… but I’m not bold enough to stop him.
OOC: Qiu was the first in-game RP character I really took seriously. I gave her a rich and fucked up history and ran with it. She developed so much… more than I had anticipated in the years I played her. Up to now, I don’t think any other character I’ve rolled has had the intense amount of growth as Qiu. She started as a scrappy compulsive liar/victim of constant rape to this slightly ‘crazy’ (for a lack of a better word), unconventional, complicated character who stopped caring, stopped giving a fuck. Her walls around her were so thick from everything that happened to her in RP, she was at the point of never being ‘normal’ again. I would consider rolling a similar character again for GW2 if I was given the time…
Anonymous said: Wrath: Something that gets me angry.
"She died because she was a whore," Viktor sneered to Mikahl.
With that, Mikahl pushed his brother with all the strength his body allowed him. Viktor knew exactly what to say to cause his brother to see red, bring out an anger no other person had ever been able to forge within the otherwise calm man.
(( edited rp transcript co-written with karla josephine! ))
"Why are ya’ afraid t’ tell me more ‘bout yourself? It ‘as to be more than jus’ ya’ scarin’ me off.”
Her eyes were for the grass, brows knitted in a mild anxiety as she chewed her lower lip like she hungered for it. The sound of the storm did little to ease her nerves, and it seemed she could not keep gaze from averting. She was in no hurry to meet his eyes, them burning into her flesh, but at his words she picked up her chin and quirked a brow. “Was that your question?” she asked after a bit of contemplation. She didn’t look to know whether or not she should have been more relieved than she was confused.
Mikahl couldn’t help but let out a chuckle “Should I ‘ave asked a better one?”
His chuckle summoned a smile and she shook her head quickly, in part relieved by the initial ease of his question. But that was before she thought about her answer, lips parting once as though to speak, only to close again with a soft frown. This question, evidently, was more difficult than she’d originally thought. She even went as far as pulling a hand out from under her makeshift cloak to scratch her head with a finger, head canted in reflection. “I’m not…” She was choosing her words, not quite sure what made sense and what would be too much to tell. “It’s, um…. I guess it’s—I’m—”
Silence. She cut herself off, clearly needing time to think on her answer. And she did for a long while—perhaps longer than what could be considered polite. But when she spoke, she spoke carefully. Evenly. “…I’m a messy person,” she breathed with an equally airy chuckle. But even with all that air, her words carried a gravity that weighed the woman down. “and I suppose I just try to keep my mess to myself, hm?” A vague answer to a vague question. There was truth in her response, although it was heavily veiled. There was something in the way she said ‘mess’—the implication of a long-carried burden, a danger she was in no hurry to share.
In the end, it wasn’t what she said that really answered his question. It was how she said it.
Mikahl’s nod was slow, the gravity of her answer enough then. While it was far from specific, he realized that every secret had its reasons. With that, he extended an open palm, as though waiting for her to shake it. He looked to her expectedly.
Quill’s own smile was slow and confused, offered her own with heavy hesitation as though suspicious of his palm. “What’s this for?” she chuckled.
He took her hand in a platonic shake, calloused palms must warmer than they should have been considering the rain storm beyond the tent. "I’m a man o’ my word,” he explained, “an’ I promise ya’ aren’t gonna scare me ‘way as easily as ya’ think ya’ are. …unless ya’ send a giant amphibious creature t’ward my tent, then all bets are off."
Quill snorted softly, smile small. Her own hand was small in his, almost delicate, as though she hadn’t worked a day of hard labor in all her life. But she shook his hand as firmly as her size allotted. Despite her nod, her eyes suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’ll remember that,” she chuckled.
Mikahl withdrew his hand, quickly making a face of absolute disgust, “Oh fuck, ya’ got yer mess on my hand.” He swatted his infected palm in the air, all drama and no consideration.
"Oh, fuck you!”
Anonymous said: Lust: Something that I find attractive.
Mikahl peered to her, the snow getting in both of their hair as they drank in the biergarten. Today, they had put on their best act to pretend to be nobles, stealing food and wine from a gala they had no business taking part in.
"I hope you know what you’re doing," she warned, "Because I sure don’t."
The man held out his hand, awaiting his prospective dance partner, “I only know how t’ dance like a dirty commoner, m’lady. The rhythm and formless tavern dance of a poor boy from Ebonhawke.”
Quill made him smile, even when what humored them was silly and childish.
because I only have a few thousand people running around in my head. XD