Name: Alex Reed,
the Dauntless Key
Image(Because she sucks at describing how people look):
Post:
I've been feeling restless lately... Does any of this really matter? Even when I bite, scratch and claw for a taste of real freedom... nothing ever changes. Its starting to feel like a long long dream, merely going through the motions day in and day out...
The room was dark, only lit with the dimmest of lights descending from a tall ceiling. A faint mist seemed to waft around the room, what little bits of light within the room reflecting off of it. Sounds of feet shuffling and hushed yet excited voices were all that set upon her ears. Upon the tall darkened stage stood a woman steeped in androgyny. Short unkept black hair fell just above her shoulders, contrasting with the white of a simple collared shirt she wore. Thin non-descriptive form ran down to a thin pair deep blue jeans, loosely hoisted by a brown leather belt. Strapped to the belt was a small knife, snugly holstered but clearly visible at all times. Stage lights shut on one by one with a resounding
thunk. The stage was lit, the young woman which stood in the center was illuminated in an instant. She stood before a microphone stand, head hung slightly, eyes closed as if she slept in that very position. The crowd below all turned towards the stage, growing hush in anticipation. The room became impossibly quiet. Sharp eyes slowly opened to gaze upon the crowd. The woman spotted but a few familiar faces within the crowd.
She stepped forward to grasp the microphone, but then everything seemed to stop. Color seemed to drain from the scene in all but two finite points. The point in which she stood, and a second positioned within the center of the crowd. Her eyes immediately snapped to that point, mouth going a bit ajar and eyes widening slightly in shock at the sight before her. In the center of the crowd stood a perfect reflection of herself, eyes shut with a faint smile painted across its lips. Quickly as it was spotted, the reflection turned with a calm ease and began to step out to vanish within the crowd. Alex stepped forward and broke into a run, tossing the mic stand before her to the side as she moved towards the edge of the stage. When her foot hit the edge of the stage her body suddenly rotated in what surely must have been an impossible manner. Her mind began to race, the a single heel being all that was left in contact with the edge of the stage. Soon that too left and the young woman found herself falling from the tall stage.
However her back did not collide with the ground soon as it should have. Instead she merely kept falling and falling, the sight before her causing her mind to race even further. It seemed the ground had no longer existed and she merely kept falling, the stage she had stood on elongating as she continued down, the top becoming further and further from her vision. Music flooded into the room as she descended further and further, guitars blared and drums pounded, intermingling with vocals she clearly recognized as her own, the crowed roared with excitement. Atop the platform stood the reflection of herself which stepped to the edge of the stage, merely watching her fall. Alex let out a cry of frustration at the sight, the scene suddenly changing a moment later. Finally the fall gave way with a sudden splash. Her vision darkened, the stage she had fallen from and the room around faded into but a glistening point of light shining at the waters surface. Her vision panned around in the darkness as she fell through the water.
After a few disorientated moments she found herself flipped right side up, her pace slowing from a frantic fall to a calm descent. The darkness was soon lit by beams of light reflecting off a station of stained glass which seemed to appear from no where. But Alex welcomed the shining platform she was gently placed around. She slowly looked around once more, taking in the scenery. Then a faint flash shone from the other side of the platform. Three pedestals emerged form the glass platform, each holding an icon of a different object. The key, the lock, the door. For a moment she stood contemplating the meaning of everything. But the way forward was obvious. Her fist clench, she stepped forward swiftly, a light grin spread across her lips as she took hold of the key from the pedestal.
With the key removed the pedestal's descended back into the platform. Her path forward opened, stained glass extending out far into the darkness. With the key clutched tightly in hand she started a run down the twisting roadway...
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Sebastion the Unbreakable Lock
I feel like John Smith. Cookie cut, fixed destiny. Mella, why is it I feel trapped? Gah, Did I just say that? What a terrible thing to say: I feel trapped in my home amongst my loved ones? Perhaps I'm not John Smith at all, maybe I'm a John Doe.
OK so I'm being melodramatic, "liven up Sebastion!" I can hear them now.
I am alive!
❤
The eve of Sebastion's eighteenth birthday. Breezily navigating the chirpy narrow back streets of Alma he made his way to the town's square. His blonded oak hair concreted in a small square afro remained perfectly still as he ran. He was purposely hoping to avoid detection for he knew what
they would do if
they managed to spot him. The closer he got to the square the more dangerous his quest became. 'In and out. Quick as a split.' he thought slyly peeking his head around a cosy cobble corner, squinting his oriental eyes.
Sebastion's feet whirled up a storm as he scrambled through the square not even allowing the dust to settle before colliding with the door to Alma's famous candy shop. The door brushed against an iron bell releasing a jolly jingle that Sebastion always found awakened pleasant memories. A sigh of relief led to restful eyes and a gentle grin, "Hello, _____" he said greeting the shop keeper. The door's stained glass shone brightly on the old crone illuminating her magically. Sebastions caramel skin appeared equally as fantastical.
"Hello, Sebastion. I expect you'll want the usual?" She said, ragged but undeniably welcoming.
"Yes m'am" Sebastion replied politely.
"Here you are." The old crone's hand wobbled as she passed Sebastion a purple satchel of hard candy and curiously a mysterious letter to go along with it.
"What's this?" His expression read puzzled. The shopkeeper cackled eccentrically and returned to the back of the shop closing a velvet curtain behind her. Sebastion pried open the letter to reveal a note written in instantly recognizable scribble.
Don't think you're safe yet!
- W & A
Sebastion was so adamant that he would not fall victim to the prank war this year he was avoiding
them entirely. Just the thought of the previous year's would force him to squirm in delightful disgust. He coveted the note safe in his pocket like a treasure and psyched himself up to enter the battle ground, a smirk unwillingly curling up his cheek. A thud and a jolly jingle as he dashed from the store headed for the sanctuary of the alley ways. Surprised to make it out alive he knew better than to stop and contemplate his luck and hurried along up the winding hill.
Sebastion wondered, 'Is this part of their plan? Gah, psychological warfare!' as he sat sucking on a sour candy on the roof of his home, hawk eyed and playfully paranoid. He brought himself to his feet and formed a megaphone from his hands, "Come on! Enough is enough!" he roared.
❤