Post by Bastille Amtrum on Jul 12, 2008 22:46:51 GMT -8
((I like doing these things….these character blogs neh? So I decided to delve a little deeper into the heart of Bastille. Though she wears her heart on her shoulder, she guards it and ignores it very well, however this is going to be one of those times she can’t ignore it. This takes place while dreaming inside the correctional facility.))
“MARRY ME THEN!”
“uh…now hold up a sec Bastille that’s taking it a bit far…” He laughed softly.
“IT IS NOT, as daughter of the Cunningham family I order you to marry me Leon Vaude’mont, who cares if your French or whatever else my family hates yours for…there we are engaged!”
“it doesn’t work that way Bastille…here let me show you” his voice gentle again. Not even the least condescending.
The light brown haired boy got on one knee and unfortunately for Bastille this meant he was now eye level. Bastille was short for a girl of thirteen but that didn’t stop him from trying to get down even lower. She blushed and watched him as he bent as far down as he could while staying on the traditional one knee.
“I don’t have a ring…but, Bastille Vileto Cunningham, would you do me the biggest honor and make me the happiest man and become my wife? When you’re older of course!” He smiled pleasantly at her.
Bastilles dark brown eyes, which often if put in the right light looked crimson sparkled lightly. Her childish face covered in scarlet and all she could do was stare at him. She of course slapped him and turned away in a emotional mess. He chuckled again and rubbed his sore cheek.
“GEEEZ….THATS NOT FUNNY…!!!” she hissed her lip protruding.
“Yes, yes, but its not meant to be funny…its serious…im serious…” he said now frowning and giving her a very peaceful yet deeply emotional look. Bastille couldn’t describe it. The warmth of the day and the feeling of being near him, she hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.
“Yes….then ….ill marry you….BUT YOU HAVE TO GET A RING!!!” she growled and his smile returned.
“I suppose this would do for now then…” he chuckled and took her small cheek in his 15 year old hand and kissed her lips softly. She blushed and stood their shocked, unable to say anything or move any muscle. Her face turned scarlet and her eyes began to water. The water made her eyes look even more crimson.
“You’re to quick to tears, Bastille…are they happy or sad?” he asked putting a hand on her cheek.
“I, I’m not sure…I don’t understand…how did we get into this conversation again?” she asked looking away and biting her lip nervously.
He laughed and got to his feet smiling down at her. She looked back up at him and smiled as pleasantly as she could. She could feel it was time for them to part again, and for him to return home. She sighed and looked at him with a frown.
Already the wind around them seemed to grow colder, and the sky seemed to go from its brilliant blue to a dark grey. Flowers would wilt from the tears of the sky and Bastille would be forced to return to being the doll of the Cunningham’s. She let her shoulder slump until and idea hit her. She smiled and backed away twirling around so the skirt of her bright red dress flowed about her legs in a huge circle. She smiled over at him her arms open wide.
“Just wait Leon, when you return, I will be a beautiful woman, the perfect bride for you ok?! And ill have pretty long blond hair too, so …wait for me ok?! AND BRING THE RING!” she demanded and with a smile dashed off. She paused however as she reached the edge of the park where the secret entrance back into her house was. She turned to look over her shoulder and there he stood. Light brown hair around 5’11” and the greenest of eyes anyone had ever seen. His smile was soft, for he had not lost his childish innocent air yet. She smiled and crawled back through the moss covered hole in the wall.
That day she was distracted. From everything and anyone, for her heart was elsewhere. Bastille had lived a sheltered and delicate life, one played by a marionette. And yet it was exciting. To take her own strings into her own hands and move where she wished now. Moved to where she could love and be loved. It was sunny in her life and Bastille wore a smile happily. This new feeling, was it love or simply happiness? Either way the feeling overflowed from her body and she didn’t mind. She wanted only to let herself shine brighter then the sun. That’s it, she was in love and happy at the same time, free for only that moment, with a future brighter and better then any puppet could ask for.
Thunder crashed outside the window. It would seem this dramatic setting only happened ever in movies yet here it was now. Lighting and thunder washed over the scene. And all she could do was stare. It was to dramatic not to be in a movie. That’s right, this was all some play…a joke…and the curtain was just having trouble falling over the scene. That was all.
In the large meeting hall where the room was lined with oil paintings of old family heads, and glass windows on either side surrounded by crimson red wall paper. The guards had left. They where done with what they had been sent to do. Kill the intruder…Only on happenstance had Bastille passed his corridor, only by coincidence had she peered into the dimly lit room where rain pounded the glass windows like they did in scary movies. Only then did she hear the last cry of the boy who only hours earlier had filled her heart with such joy and bliss, and with such a sick excuse to murder him in the main hall of the house hold. Intruder was wrong, they where jealous….jealous that Bastille had gained the rights to her own strings. Angry she had been set free by him. Her family in order to keep their sick and twisted wealth would keep her strings at any cost. Damn the rich and damn the greed that filled human hearts.
Lighting flashed again and lit up the room showing the body of the boy near the far left corner of the room. Blood flowed from his stabbed corpse onto the gold and purple grand rug. Bastille had gotten here after the killers, her family, left and before the clean up crew was to be scent. Her body was trembling. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, everything hurt, yet everything was numb. Everything screamed and yet she made no sound.
Crawling was all she could do as she stumbled further into the room. Scooting her self closer in her white silk night gown. She let her hands cold and pale, trace his neck and cheeks shakily. Her hand rested on his cheek as she squeaked and choked trying to retrieve sound. The next thing she knew she had lifted his head to rest on her shoulder as she clutched him closer to her body. Her hand running her fingers through his soft brown hair. Tears silently flew down her cheeks as her eyes became a demonic crimson underneath them. She clutched to him holding the last reminance of his warmth to her. She wanted to sob and beg for him to wake up but it was pointless.
He was dead.
She let her eyes move to his limp hand on the ground and she moved them back to the wall.
“you…where supposed to bring a ring, when next we met…” she murmured and continued to hold him close. Men where standing in the door way now all standing shocked. They came closer chanting words that Bastille could not hear. She picked up her sword. The one she had carried into the room after stealing it earlier that afternoon wanting to hold it. She rose to her feet letting the body of her first and probably last love fall to the floor with a thud. Lighting crash shinning light only her blood stained face. She withdrew the sword and the men took a step back.
“Leon…you killed him, you greedy bastards killed him, I CANT HOLD THEM!!!”
She rushed at them allowing no sound to reach her. She had killed many that night. She was unsure of the numbers but she had escaped later. To the streets where she slept in the park drench in rain. The memories after that where all so faded.
“I cant hold them”
She mumbled as brighter lights hit her eyes. Brighter lights of some sort of lab. A facility? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t remember how she got here. She had a fever. She didn’t understand.
“I cant hold them…these strings of mine….i cant hold them”
Darkness took her again.
“MARRY ME THEN!”
“uh…now hold up a sec Bastille that’s taking it a bit far…” He laughed softly.
“IT IS NOT, as daughter of the Cunningham family I order you to marry me Leon Vaude’mont, who cares if your French or whatever else my family hates yours for…there we are engaged!”
“it doesn’t work that way Bastille…here let me show you” his voice gentle again. Not even the least condescending.
The light brown haired boy got on one knee and unfortunately for Bastille this meant he was now eye level. Bastille was short for a girl of thirteen but that didn’t stop him from trying to get down even lower. She blushed and watched him as he bent as far down as he could while staying on the traditional one knee.
“I don’t have a ring…but, Bastille Vileto Cunningham, would you do me the biggest honor and make me the happiest man and become my wife? When you’re older of course!” He smiled pleasantly at her.
Bastilles dark brown eyes, which often if put in the right light looked crimson sparkled lightly. Her childish face covered in scarlet and all she could do was stare at him. She of course slapped him and turned away in a emotional mess. He chuckled again and rubbed his sore cheek.
“GEEEZ….THATS NOT FUNNY…!!!” she hissed her lip protruding.
“Yes, yes, but its not meant to be funny…its serious…im serious…” he said now frowning and giving her a very peaceful yet deeply emotional look. Bastille couldn’t describe it. The warmth of the day and the feeling of being near him, she hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.
“Yes….then ….ill marry you….BUT YOU HAVE TO GET A RING!!!” she growled and his smile returned.
“I suppose this would do for now then…” he chuckled and took her small cheek in his 15 year old hand and kissed her lips softly. She blushed and stood their shocked, unable to say anything or move any muscle. Her face turned scarlet and her eyes began to water. The water made her eyes look even more crimson.
“You’re to quick to tears, Bastille…are they happy or sad?” he asked putting a hand on her cheek.
“I, I’m not sure…I don’t understand…how did we get into this conversation again?” she asked looking away and biting her lip nervously.
He laughed and got to his feet smiling down at her. She looked back up at him and smiled as pleasantly as she could. She could feel it was time for them to part again, and for him to return home. She sighed and looked at him with a frown.
Already the wind around them seemed to grow colder, and the sky seemed to go from its brilliant blue to a dark grey. Flowers would wilt from the tears of the sky and Bastille would be forced to return to being the doll of the Cunningham’s. She let her shoulder slump until and idea hit her. She smiled and backed away twirling around so the skirt of her bright red dress flowed about her legs in a huge circle. She smiled over at him her arms open wide.
“Just wait Leon, when you return, I will be a beautiful woman, the perfect bride for you ok?! And ill have pretty long blond hair too, so …wait for me ok?! AND BRING THE RING!” she demanded and with a smile dashed off. She paused however as she reached the edge of the park where the secret entrance back into her house was. She turned to look over her shoulder and there he stood. Light brown hair around 5’11” and the greenest of eyes anyone had ever seen. His smile was soft, for he had not lost his childish innocent air yet. She smiled and crawled back through the moss covered hole in the wall.
That day she was distracted. From everything and anyone, for her heart was elsewhere. Bastille had lived a sheltered and delicate life, one played by a marionette. And yet it was exciting. To take her own strings into her own hands and move where she wished now. Moved to where she could love and be loved. It was sunny in her life and Bastille wore a smile happily. This new feeling, was it love or simply happiness? Either way the feeling overflowed from her body and she didn’t mind. She wanted only to let herself shine brighter then the sun. That’s it, she was in love and happy at the same time, free for only that moment, with a future brighter and better then any puppet could ask for.
Thunder crashed outside the window. It would seem this dramatic setting only happened ever in movies yet here it was now. Lighting and thunder washed over the scene. And all she could do was stare. It was to dramatic not to be in a movie. That’s right, this was all some play…a joke…and the curtain was just having trouble falling over the scene. That was all.
In the large meeting hall where the room was lined with oil paintings of old family heads, and glass windows on either side surrounded by crimson red wall paper. The guards had left. They where done with what they had been sent to do. Kill the intruder…Only on happenstance had Bastille passed his corridor, only by coincidence had she peered into the dimly lit room where rain pounded the glass windows like they did in scary movies. Only then did she hear the last cry of the boy who only hours earlier had filled her heart with such joy and bliss, and with such a sick excuse to murder him in the main hall of the house hold. Intruder was wrong, they where jealous….jealous that Bastille had gained the rights to her own strings. Angry she had been set free by him. Her family in order to keep their sick and twisted wealth would keep her strings at any cost. Damn the rich and damn the greed that filled human hearts.
Lighting flashed again and lit up the room showing the body of the boy near the far left corner of the room. Blood flowed from his stabbed corpse onto the gold and purple grand rug. Bastille had gotten here after the killers, her family, left and before the clean up crew was to be scent. Her body was trembling. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, everything hurt, yet everything was numb. Everything screamed and yet she made no sound.
Crawling was all she could do as she stumbled further into the room. Scooting her self closer in her white silk night gown. She let her hands cold and pale, trace his neck and cheeks shakily. Her hand rested on his cheek as she squeaked and choked trying to retrieve sound. The next thing she knew she had lifted his head to rest on her shoulder as she clutched him closer to her body. Her hand running her fingers through his soft brown hair. Tears silently flew down her cheeks as her eyes became a demonic crimson underneath them. She clutched to him holding the last reminance of his warmth to her. She wanted to sob and beg for him to wake up but it was pointless.
He was dead.
She let her eyes move to his limp hand on the ground and she moved them back to the wall.
“you…where supposed to bring a ring, when next we met…” she murmured and continued to hold him close. Men where standing in the door way now all standing shocked. They came closer chanting words that Bastille could not hear. She picked up her sword. The one she had carried into the room after stealing it earlier that afternoon wanting to hold it. She rose to her feet letting the body of her first and probably last love fall to the floor with a thud. Lighting crash shinning light only her blood stained face. She withdrew the sword and the men took a step back.
“Leon…you killed him, you greedy bastards killed him, I CANT HOLD THEM!!!”
She rushed at them allowing no sound to reach her. She had killed many that night. She was unsure of the numbers but she had escaped later. To the streets where she slept in the park drench in rain. The memories after that where all so faded.
“I cant hold them”
She mumbled as brighter lights hit her eyes. Brighter lights of some sort of lab. A facility? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t remember how she got here. She had a fever. She didn’t understand.
“I cant hold them…these strings of mine….i cant hold them”
Darkness took her again.
