* IS SHE WEIRD ?

* ROUGH TOUCH / OPEN

My muse attempts to push off yours. 

  ❝       i  knew   i   smelled   a   bag   of   dicks.     ❞           she   doesn’t   know   why   she  spoke   up.   cassandra   always   had   a   problem   when   it  came   to IMPULSE  CONTROL but  she   was   sure, positively  sure,  that   she   didn’t   want   to   meet   him.   she   had  managed   to   avoid THE  SUN for  the   last   fifty   years,   why   change   it   now?   7/11′s  lights   showered   apollo   with   a   fake   plastic   kind   of  spotlight,   making   him   look   blueish   and   pale.   very  much   how   cass   looked   most   of   the   time   nowadays.   her  lips   hurt. PLAGUED  WITH   HERPES   YET   AGAIN,  red   and   swollen   and   with   cuts   trying   to   rip  through   the   already   sickly   looking   skin   ...   cassandra  thought   she   liked   the   way   she   looked.   liked  causing REPULSION and FEAR,  liked   watching   people   avoid   eye   contact   with   her   or  pay   careful   attention   to   just   how   close   they   stood together. IT  GAVE   HER   POWER. reminded  her   very   faintly   of   the   old   days   when   people  feared   staring   her   in   the   eye.   but   when   apollo   was around, her   power  became   his. the   way   she   looked   no   longer  belonged   to   her. cassandra  was   how   she   was   because   of   him. and  suddenly   she   was aware of  how DISGUSTING she  must   have   looked   instead   of   being PROUD of  it.

dark  eyes   examine   him   from   head   to   toe,   uninterested,  detached,   like   one   would   skim   over   the   milk   section  at   a   supermarket.   but   there’s   something   there   that  the   seeress   doesn’t   remember   feeling   around   anyone  else,   didn’t   matter   if   they   were   god   or   man   ;  cassandra   felt SMALL  NEXT   TO   HIM. felt  powerless. and  that   annoyed   her   very   deeply. she  walked   up   to   the   other   god,   slowly,   suddenly  painfully   aware   of   her   filthy   grey   slippers   and  tobacco   infested   robe.   but   she   stopped   right   in   front  of   him,   eyeing   him   closely,   drinking   in   the  features   he   had   taken   in   this   life.   she  was disgusted to  find   that,   despite   not   looking   his   best, HE  LOOKED   BEAUTIFUL. a  tragic   sort   of   beauty   it   seemed,   very   fitting   to  this   century.   the   sort   of   man   who   had   suffered  through   many   hardships   ...   and   cass   thought   she   might  laugh.   but   instead   her   lip   trembled.   how   was   this  fair?   him   looking   sad   and   beautiful   while   cassandra  was   stuck   looking   like something  someone   had   left   on   the   side   of   the   road ?  after   all   he   had   done   to   her,   he   still   looked  like   someone’s   champion.   and   she   ?   she   slowly  touched   his   face.

* ROUGH TOUCH / OPEN

Your muse slams mine against a wall hard. 

cassandra  doesn’t   remember   the   last   time   she   felt   the AIR  GETTING   KNOCKED   OUT   OF   HER like  this.   like   the   moment   her   spine   slammed   against   the  wall   her   very LUNGS leapt  out   of   her   chest,   like crash  test   dummies   that   had   forgotten   to   wear   a  seatbelt. she  sucks   in   air   after   a   few   seconds,   a   shaky,  desperate   sound   that   makes   it   seem   as   if   she  actually   cares   whether   she   lives   or   dies  ... embarrassing.  there’s   a   cough   there   that   rattles   her   very  skeleton   and   it’s   only   after   a   few   furious   blinks, when   the   pain   fades   and   anger   creeps   in,   that   she realises   that,   her   attacker,   looked   awfully   familiar.  ❝               oh,   it’s you.     ❞        the   greek   mumbled,   disappointed,  trying   to   find   a   more   comfortable   position   against  her   living   room’s   wall,   daring   to   raise   the  cigarette   she   had   been   holding   onto   her   lips,   taking a   long   nonchalant   drag,   like   jesse   custer   hadn’t  just   assaulted   her.    ❝            didn’t  hear   you   come   in.        ❞          cassandra   says,   smoke   being   purposefully   blown   onto   the  man’s   face.  

* ROUGH TOUCH / OPEN

Your muse roughly grabs my muse’s arm.   

it  wouldn’t   be   the   first   time   she   got   manhandled   by a   costumer.   there   weren’t   a   whole   lot   of   people  who   left   cassandra’s “office” satisfied.  that   was   her   curse   after   all   ;   to   have   no  mortal   ever   believe   her very accurate very true  predictions. THE  TRUTH   GOT   HER   IN   TROUBLE. so  ,   sometimes,   she’d   make   things   up.   let   random  strings   of   words   spill   from   her   mouth   and   hope   that  they   would,   somehow   ,   win   her   a   regular   whose  appointments   would   help   pay   for   food   and   electricity  and RAT  POISON. but  sometimes   her   random   ramblings   got   the   opposite  effect.   her   thirst   for SARCASM and REVENGE towards  all   those   who would  not   accept   the   truth was  stronger   than   her will  to   live. and  so,   when   her   latest   appointment   grabbed   her   by   the arm   tightly   enough   to   leave   a   bruise,   yanking   at  it   as   if SHE was  the   one   trying   to   escape   the   apartment,   viciously  enough   to   imply ILL  INTENT ...  cassandra   wasn’t   surprised. just  slightly   annoyed. 

attraction is a bit of a messy subject when it comes to cass. she’s more inclined to trust women. she will be equally unpleasant and difficult with them but when it comes to developing actual romantic connections that are based on more positive / healthy feelings, women are usually the ones on the receiving end. because cassandra has precious memories of the times spent with friends and handmaidens where everything was softer and simpler. she’s not a soft nor easy woman. but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss that time. despite her bitterness and poor social skills, cassandra does have great admiration for women who fight to make themselves heard / to be happy in a world that can be horribly unkind to them ( one of the only creatures alive that makes cass act like something other than a gross underground monster is athena and i swear to god she sighs like a schoolgirl whenever she sees the goddess snapping at someone ) . and she will prove to be quite merciful and gentle to women going through hardships. but if you tell anyone she might kick your ass.

when it comes to men it’s a whole other thing. cassandra wears herpes proudly on her lips, is often covered in wine stains, chain smokes, sometimes goes days without bathing, she is a woman on the edge and is aware that she doesn’t look anything close to conventionally attractive. she will only flirt / be suggestive with men if she knows it will make them uncomfortable. cassandra’s main goal is not for them to be attracted to her or love her but to FEAR HER. that, she will tell you, is the best thing any man will offer her. she has no interest whatsoever in getting involved with them ... but there are a couple of exceptions. men who others are scared of: cassandra admires them immensely and will make sure to let them know to the point of becoming overbearing. but this isn’t love of any kind. cass likes big scary men because she wishes she had the same effect they have on other people. it’s one of those cases of not sure if i wanna fuck you or be you. and she also has a much more repressed and secretive thing for sensitive, fragile, insecure men. men who are shunned by other men or that do not fit into the macho stereotype. men who need to be protected. cassandra has a soft spot for those. but she will still throw sharp objects at them if bored. 

the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. ╱  “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” ╱ pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. ╱  “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” ╱ guilt that isn’t yours to have.╱   it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town.  ╱ chains. ╱ “ how could you do this to me? ” ╱  the sharp sting of guilt.  ╱   you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite.  ╱ the family you never had. ╱  falling backwards through time. ╱quicksand. ╱  drowning, but you don’t save yourself.  ╱  “ you’re getting better. ” ╱  “ they smile like a snake. ” ╱ you’re the stars and the sky. ╱  there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to.   ╱ they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. ╱ “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” ╱  you edge a bit too close to the sun.  ╱ another ghost to take your place after every stumble. ╱  deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun.

rock candy melting in water. ╱ waves rise and leave the foam behind. ╱ the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually.  ╱ happiness is the best front a man can take. ╱ “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. ” ╱ you disagree; they’re more beautiful. ╱ discomfort at the tiniest of touches. ╱ the sky opens up when you see them.╱  rain comes down.   ╱ poppy fields.   ╱  your sanity hanging by a thread. ╱  “ oh god, what have you done? ”  ╱ roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all.   ╱ they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. ╱ you try to help, but it only got worse.  ╱  now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. ╱ adam & eve in the garden. ╱ a temptress in crisp button-downs. ╱ “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” ╱  they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself.  ╱ the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre.  ╱  sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side.

yves saint laurent ╱ black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape. ╱ crisp green apples piled up on the table. ╱ your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. ╱  what a pretty one, they say.  ╱ you laugh without humor. ╱ a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest.  ╱  there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. ╱ the seat of power fits like a glove. ╱ heavy is the head that wears the crown. ╱  you share a space, but not a mind.  ╱ they think you are weak; you are, maybe.   ╱ “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” ╱  an empty bird’s nest. ╱broken pencil tips.  ╱ there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. ╱ “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” ╱  “ they weren’t there when it happened. ”

* PET SEMETARY / OPEN .

her  arms   trembled   as   she   tried   to   push   herself   back  up.   ideas   were   hard   to   kill,   harder   to   kill   than  a   person, but   they  could   be   killed. and   although   falling   from   the  balcony   of   a   second   floor   hadn’t   left   cassandra  with   the TRAUMA one  would   expect,   that   didn’t   mean   she   would  leave unscratched.  she’s   still   not   sure   how THAT had  happened.   one   moment   she   was   there,   chain   smoking  her   way   into   a   sore   throat   and   skeleton   rattling  cough   when   she   thought   she SAW  SOMETHING behind  her.   and   what   she   saw   didn’t   make   any   sense,  because   she   was   in   new   york   city   and   not   in   troy and   this   was   the   twenty-first   century   where   magic  didn’t   exist   and   gods   were   dead.   but   cassandra  could   have sworn  by   all   of   greece,   by   athena’s   name,   by   all   of  the   wisdom   in   serpents’   tongues that  right   there   and   then,   on   that   second   story   balcony,  she   had   spotted   a   light. A LIGHT  SO   INTENSE one  would   think   there   was   a   fire   consuming   the  apartment   whole.   cassandra   turned   around   and   saw THE  SUN   SITTING   IN   HER   LIVING   ROOM. and  she   couldn’t   help   but scream,  something   she   deeply   regretted   now   that   she   struggled  to   sit   up   on   the   hard   asphalt,   and   lose   balance. 

    ❝           yeah,  no   shit.           ❞              cass   managed   to   growl   through   gritted   teeth.   one   of  her   legs   was   bending   the   wrong   way.   nothing   that  couldn’t   be   fixed,   but   still,   the   seeress   could  feel   the   electric   shocks   of   pain   strangling   every  nerve   in   her.   it   was   embarrassing   to   her,   being  this VULNERABLE out   there   on   the   middle   of  the   street   for   everyone   to   see.   she   winced   when  trying   to   lift   her   ass   off   the   floor. she  couldn’t. and   the   more   she   tried   the   more  she   became   aware   of   the   feeling   that   something BEHIND  HER   OPTIC   NERVES was   stuck.   her   left   eye’s  iris   had   blown   out   into WORRYING   PROPORTIONS : the  sign   of   a   vision   trying   to   warn   her   of   some  imminent   tragedy,   no   doubt,   but   that   ,for   some  reason,   could   not   come   into   fulfillment.   whatever   was  to   come   did   not BELONG in   that   timeline.  something   alien   and   unfit   for   twenty-first   century   new york. something   cassandra   of   troy   should   have  never   ran   into.