#askeleonore

trying to find our way back home

Love you too bby ;)

Yeah it posted instead of being sent privately and I had to delete this one soooo: I won't haha so if you get a random spazzy text one day it's probably me XP but agh Andy I messaged him the other day like congrats on graduating and he anSWERED ME SO BASICALLY HE KNOWS I EXIST and I sang Whatever Happens for my most recent audition and sometimes I get sad because I'm a runner and really inflexible so I will never be able to dance as well as them and other days I get depressed because I'm not Kara Lindsay but what can you do

OHMYROWLING YOU SUCK WELL NOT REALLY But really I’m sososososo jealous I mean I wouldn’t be answering threads either if I were off seeing Newsies because NEWSIES VSKWXIANZUWNZUWNGSYU So you love Newsies too??? Why can’t we see eachother in real life man cause sometimes I just start shouting about Ben Fankhauser and people just sort of look at me and keep walking I tried to get my one friend who fangirls over Les Mis with me into it but idk she’s not as far gone as me SEEING IT IS MY GOAL FOR THIS SUMMER Before Ben and Cara and Tommy and Corey leave because I already missed Mike and Ryan and Jeremy and Andrew ANDREW I AM SO SAD But yeah Sorry I am a spaz

à bientôt, au revior!! ^.^ <3

((Of course! I prefer drabbles over headcanons, so that's what it turned out to be. Yuuup.))The smell reached them before the sight did. It stunk of dead and dying things, of smoke and ashes and broken hearts. As the rowboats drew nearer, a light breeze kicked up, accompanied by a cloud of fine, powdery soot that burns your eyes and lingers in your lungs and mouth, no matter how much water you drink.Gage crouched uncomfortably in the center of one of these boats, trying his best to avoid coughing and therefore drawing attention to himself. He was frightened of the men around him, characters right out of one of the tales his parents told him to get him to behave, with their pistols and cutlasses and wicked grins. The sound of the oars through the water was abnormally loud, echoing through the eerie silence of the earth mourning her own destruction. The soft, rhythmic splashes seemed like the ticking of a clock that was much too slow, or a time bomb that was much too fast. The shoreline came into sight, so unrecognizable that Gage gasped, loud in the quiet air, not even caring who heard him.The town was gone, completely burned to the ground; damage like this was irreversible, when there was no longer anything left to be damaged. The paths he had once played in were littered with debris; pieces of buildings lay alongside still-smoldering palm leaves, people's lives and possessions strewn into the street, and melded together into an impersonal mass of sorrow. The boats hit shore, and Gage was shoved out, onto the beach that he once called home.Who knows how long he wandered there, taking in the complete devastation with stunned disbelief.  Behind him was the well where he drew water every morning, and just over there was the school hut. Across the way was his favorite climbing tree. He could see all of them in his mind's eye, the images painfully incongruent with the destruction he saw in reality.And in front of him, at and under his feet, was what was left of his house. Carefully, Gage tip-toed into the ruin, easily stepping over the small mound of cinders that once made up the thin walls. There was absolutely nothing left, and reality finally hit Gage, forcing him to the ground and into the warm ash. Tears fell, sizzling on the ground, and the boy covered his face with his arms, not wanting to show weakness in case any of the pirates were watching.But even if the weakness was hidden, it was still there. The fear was there, the anger was there, and so was the guilt. It tried to escape in Gage's heaving breaths, leaving him empty and cold. After several minutes, he stood up straight again, his face tearstained but stony. He took one more look around the sea of gray, and started to leave, but something stopped him.It was small, but starkly white and pure against the sickly cinders. A pearl. Gage leaned down and picked it up, carefully wiping it clean. It had been his mother's, part of her wedding ring. Next to it was a slight bump in the gritty black sand, held precariously together with thin iron bands. Hesitantly, Gage leaned down and touched it, and it disintegrated, a metal skeleton surrounding a fragile piece of parchment, carefully folded. It had been his father's, a map of the sea and his most treasured possession. He tucked the two objects into his pocket, and turned to head back to the pirates, who were waiting threateningly.If weakness could be hidden, so could these keepsakes, these memories; they could be hidden away, but could also be taken out and remembered.He didn't look back.