* 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.