#creaturedear

COLOURFUL HEADCANONS,     not accepting.

MALACHITE:     has your muse ever done anything that they winded up feeling incredibly guilty for in the end?       frankly?   no,   she hasn’t.     sometimes she will feel regret for her actions,   but that usually happens when she makes a choice or a mistake that negatively impacts herself    (  ‘ oh shit,   i shouldn’t’ve done that  /  i played myself  /   i made a bad move  ‘   )   ;         the only thing i can think of that would make her feel guilty is if someone she   REALLY  DOES  TRULY  LOVE   gets hurt   /   dies as a result of the chaos that her presence causes ie. when the void targets someone it thinks charlotte genuinely and deeply cares for to maximize *bass boosted* pain.   but this happens   EXTREMELY RARELY   because charlotte normally doesn’t get this close to people.

ernie peels open and folds back his notepad (a few pages stick together with what is either a reddish jam or barely-dried blood) as he crosses the truck stop one unhappy step at a time.

each footfall registers more distantly than the last, as if his mind has begun to move independent of his body. there’s a realization to be had, a collection of observations to piece together, which he attempts, in vain, to resist. now he knows the full view will provide little beyond confirmation and heavy, persistent dread.

you’re a child, he thinks. you’re a child, what happened to you?

         ‘ ’morning, ’ he says, tapping his pen on the page for an excuse to look quickly away from her face. he watches intently as an ink bleed twists into the words ‘you’re a child’ in his own script, then flips to the next page and spins the pen around between his knuckles. ‘ can i get you something to drink or do you — do you need a minute? ’

    there is a shy move of her head trying to hide behind that curtain of blonde locks.    it isn’t because she didn’t want to exposed to such gentle gestures ever again  ,  it’s because of that.    she hasn’t been shown any sort of kindness since then.    there is no one around for her to be mistreated  ,  but those things in the walls taunt her with false love.    she keeps giggling behind locks.    fingers curled up against her lips as if to not show any loud joy as if to not upset those horrid things.    but she keeps giggling and doesn’t show any signs of stopping any time soon.

    possession.    seizure.    keeping.    hostage.    what is a body  ?    to both himself and to the thing that sits beside him.    the body is a web of blood and electricity like strings woven into the holes of puppets to yank the arm or kick the leg.    do what the body wants to do because it is never your own.    you just exist in it.    the body to these creatures is only a place to stay.    a dirtied hotel room that many patrons have inhabited before they did.    it becomes a burden because this isn’t a home.    what ellie tells him isn’t far from a familiar feeling.    he  knows.

    i  hate  it  here  and  i  would  like  to  move.    he thinks to himself.   but where would he be if he wasn’t here in this hell that has catered to his every need.    this is what he’s supposed to look like and sound like.    this is a label to put onto him when that goes against everything he wishes to be.    the walls will complain and the phones will ring  ,  but he is still here in this body.    and she  ,  sitting beside him ass absent as she could be  ,  wants to be one with something and not the thing that holds her to the ground.    she wants to be in it.    this much he knows.

“   WELL,   HOLY SHIT.   ”             charlotte spoke like a metronome,   the words falling from her dry lips like rocks off a cliff.     she shifted her weight and tried not to   kick   eleanor in the head.     the fine layer of   dust   that was yet to freeze to the forest floor   stirred   and mixed with the white smoke of her breath.       “   you’re in a mood.   ”

meta  questions.

    all of it had started during her last moments in reamlie and when she had come home.    the war was the biggest wake up call she never asked for a realized that wasn’t supposed to be her way of living or her idea of it.    when they had decided to come home and stay home in the real world, connie wanted a change because she associated that rebellious part of herself with her world.    that sort of style didn’t seem to fit her anymore, so she made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t be so against the grind anymore and violence would become a foreign language to her.    don’t take this for granted though because she’s a still strong woman who won’t let people step all over her.   it was a total transformation of personality while keeping components of her nearly reckless personality.