Post by Fel on Oct 7, 2011 17:38:16 GMT -5
The branches ripple like waves, each small leaf moves with the others in unison until it's impossible to see any one of them. The California fall, though not very cold, has begun painting the leaves in oranges and browns and a few float down to the ground when their stems give way. The girl below them stops and turns her indigo eyes upward. Her silk blond hair fans out behind her, caught by the wind, and a few strands fall over her face to partially hide the frown on her lips.
Robin crosses her arms over her stomach, hunching her shoulders against the wind that seems unnaturally cold. She's wearing according to her normal style, a thin black leather jacket with a fur hood and dark blue jeans that hug her skin without strangling her. Slowly, she forces her legs to bend and now she's moving foreword again. Without realizing what she's doing she starts whistling the tune to Ave Marie. The notes echo through the trees, sounding hollow.
Thanks to her dealings with Flock, the school nurse, it no longer hurts to move her limbs. It's an amazing feeling, but having to do something like this makes her want to drag her feet until they stop moving. She'd agreed to become Flock's servant in exchange for a body that was free of illness. Now she's going into the woods to retrieve some of her belongings that she'd planned to leave there until they rotted into the ground. Since this forest is off-limits to the students she had decided that this is the best place to hide her possessions.
Just as she's beginning to really feel the chill in her bones she comes to a huge oak tree with particularly gnarled limbs. Robin has been here so often that she can recognize this tree on sight and she knows exactly where to dig. After a few minutes of hacking away at the solid ground with a small spade she pulls a wooden box out of the new hole. When she takes off the dirty lid the contents shine in the weak sunlight. She can count the number of things in there easily. On bottle of high-grade medical drugs, half full, two knives, three bottles of different colored liquids, and a leather bag. Meticulously, she takes each thing out and places them side by side on the ground. When she picks up the knives she stops to look at them and time seems to slip into a peculiar state of abeyance, just for a moment, before she gently puts them on the ground. It goes against the grain for her to handle things like knives.
When everything is out of the box she closes the lid and is just about to bury it in the hole, empty, when she hesitates. Is she really going to do this? It's not hard to answer that question, all she has to do is look at her hands which are strong and unshaken for the first time in her life. Before the weaker part of her mind can convince her to put the things back in the box she drops it into the hole and starts to push the dirt onto it.
Robin crosses her arms over her stomach, hunching her shoulders against the wind that seems unnaturally cold. She's wearing according to her normal style, a thin black leather jacket with a fur hood and dark blue jeans that hug her skin without strangling her. Slowly, she forces her legs to bend and now she's moving foreword again. Without realizing what she's doing she starts whistling the tune to Ave Marie. The notes echo through the trees, sounding hollow.
Thanks to her dealings with Flock, the school nurse, it no longer hurts to move her limbs. It's an amazing feeling, but having to do something like this makes her want to drag her feet until they stop moving. She'd agreed to become Flock's servant in exchange for a body that was free of illness. Now she's going into the woods to retrieve some of her belongings that she'd planned to leave there until they rotted into the ground. Since this forest is off-limits to the students she had decided that this is the best place to hide her possessions.
Just as she's beginning to really feel the chill in her bones she comes to a huge oak tree with particularly gnarled limbs. Robin has been here so often that she can recognize this tree on sight and she knows exactly where to dig. After a few minutes of hacking away at the solid ground with a small spade she pulls a wooden box out of the new hole. When she takes off the dirty lid the contents shine in the weak sunlight. She can count the number of things in there easily. On bottle of high-grade medical drugs, half full, two knives, three bottles of different colored liquids, and a leather bag. Meticulously, she takes each thing out and places them side by side on the ground. When she picks up the knives she stops to look at them and time seems to slip into a peculiar state of abeyance, just for a moment, before she gently puts them on the ground. It goes against the grain for her to handle things like knives.
When everything is out of the box she closes the lid and is just about to bury it in the hole, empty, when she hesitates. Is she really going to do this? It's not hard to answer that question, all she has to do is look at her hands which are strong and unshaken for the first time in her life. Before the weaker part of her mind can convince her to put the things back in the box she drops it into the hole and starts to push the dirt onto it.
