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#Post#: 349850--------------------------------------------------
The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: LacyMariePugsley Date: September 12, 2013, 3:58 pm
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Black. That was the blatant colour that painted the sky with its
stunning defiance that chased away flimsy fantasies which your
mind, at any given time, normally would have deceived you with.
Delicate hands on a rusty, oversized clock on the nearby
building ticked without mercy past ten o'clock signifying her
arrival would now be late; as it usually was. There was no
lighting to recommend places to step along the broken concrete
sidewalk, which slowed her walk and making her that much more
behind. Lelain thought back to what her mother had told her at
eight years old as her eyes danced from the ground to the path
in front of her several times before settling on a large cabin
that stood out like a sunflower among roses among the old brick
buildings.
"Once, my doll," she started like she always had with Lelains
nickname; the memory of it stirring a smile along her lips.
"Emotions were allowed and there was no such thing as the
'Abandonment'. The cities were beautiful, all of the street
lamps lit with an inviting glow, and the buildings were new and
had giant moving pictures on them that we called
'advertisements'. People chose their leaders, their clothes,
everything."
That was one of the few memories she contained of her mother.
Even as the memory played out, her voice said the words rather
than her mother's. It saddened her to think in a few months she
might have to go through the Devotions with an unknown man. A
stutter in her heart heated her cheeks as she thought of Jake.
He would be the one if she had any say about it. But that was
it; she had NO say. Whomever the government deemed her worthy to
be with was whom she would spend the rest of her days with.
The hinges on the door welcomed her as it swung back furiously
despite her gentle touch, and hit the wall.
'BOOM!'
The group of rebels stood up at once and moved fluidly. It was
as if their guns were a part of their hands, for she had not
noticed them reach for them only that they were suddenly loaded
and pointed at her chest and head.
"Guys, guys, it's just me," Lelain said, throwing up her hands.
"Damn it, girl," snarled Phil from the corner of the room with a
nine mil at hand. "We could'a shot ya! You know that there are
officials out tonight!"
Lelain rolled her eyes and sat down at a bar area on a stool
that was tall enough to lift her feet off of the ground. There
were fifteen here, all trusted or too scared to turn against
them. They all had one idea, to over throw the government and
perhaps even the same fate...
She was a few months shy still of receiving her first vaccine.
Phil, just two years older than her, had admitted that he was
already having trouble feeling emotion. The government issued
shots that everyone was submitted to taking. The shots killed
feelings of pain, sorrow, anger, happiness, excitement, and
love. They seemed to think they had more control over the
population with this tactic and so far they were right.
Lelain, leaned forward, looking over at a rather tall,
dark-haired Jake who seemed too busy with the glass of Jack in
his hand. She could tell he was worried, so was she. Tonight was
a big leap of faith and he had never been okay with the
decision.
Tonight, there was an open call for anyone new to come and join
the rebellion.
They wouldn't get caught, they couldn't. Everything was going so
well as of late. She knew, no, she hoped, the officials would
stay north of town tonight. They were in critical need of new
members after last month's incident.
#Post#: 349851--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: lexis Date: September 12, 2013, 6:33 pm
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Pain, sharp, nearly intolerable pain shot through the long, lean
body on the table as the needle dug into her thigh. The tattoo
artist above her continued to work through her small whimpers,
only slightly quieted when she dug her teeth into her lower
lip-Blaine adored the feeling. Blaine adored any feeling,
really, and pain was one that she knew she could still feel
quite easily now. She got her first shot around three years ago,
after avoiding it for so long, she was one of the few that the
doctors had had to strap down to give the shot-she didn't want
to feel her emotions slip away, and she was still fighting it
no, even though she knew most things she felt were dulled.
She couldn't get caught with another new tattoo though,
especially not tonight, she didn't want to spend her birthday in
a cell-again.
Once her tattoo was done, she slipped her black skirt on-one of
the longer, flowy ones that easily hid the tattoos that covered
her body, paid the man, then was on her way in the streets. She
was fine for a few moments, not really caring when a pointy
pebble stabbed at her bare feet, not a worry in the word until
he called after her. "Blaine? Blaine! Stop walking, right now."
She came to a complete stop, turning to look at her least
favorite person in the world; the man she was supposed to get
married to. A frown instantly set into her face and she stared
at him. "Where were you, Blaine? We've been looking all over for
you."
Hey eyes flashed, her fists clenching tightly enough her nails
dug into her palms; pain and anger nearly overwhelming her. "I
am not a child, Robert, I had plans." The man before her looked
her over quickly and then took in her long skirt, instantly
catching on to what she'd been doing.
"Oh, Blaine. I'm going to have to report you again." The phrase
itself was meant to sound sad, like he was sorry for what they
both knew he was going to do no matter what she said. "Another
birthday behind bars, when are you going to learn? This is not
okay, this is no longer allowed." He shook his head as if he
were disappointed, then pulled out a phone to turn her in once
more. Slowly, quietly she started backing away, getting further
and further away while he was distracted, then turning the
corner and taking off in a run, nearly too far away to hear him
call after her frantically. She ditched her skirt, running
better in the pair of biking shorts she'd had on underneath,
bare feet hitting the ground with small slapping sounds.
When she saw the door, she didn't even think of knocking, she
just pushed it open and dashed inside. The door hit the wall
with a loud boom, closing with the same obnoxious noise behind
her. She felt the cool metal against her temple and the hands
holding her wrists behind her before she saw the others with the
guns. Her eyes widened a bit and she murmured a quiet shit,
automatically thinking she walked herself right into a den of
mobsters or some one who wouldn't hesitate to hand her over to
get her newest shot and then be sat in a jail cell until Robert
thought she'd 'Bettered herself'.
#Post#: 349950--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: jellybean081486 Date: September 17, 2013, 8:27 pm
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Tick. Tick. Tick.
The seconds passed by without hesitation, moving the coming day
closer. No one could escape their fate, least of all Kegan. She
had tried unsuccessfully for years. If one thing she was good
at, though, was failing. She failed at pleasing her parents,
even if they did not seem to care, and she failed her friends.
She watched as each of them had been dragged away, and given
their shots. Her time was coming, and she was terrified.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The wind cut through her hair, whipping it against her cheeks.
Her feet carried her quickly, terror gripping her heart. She had
to get away from them and save her soul. Kegan did not want to
lose touch with her emotions, did not want to lose herself. Her
emotions were what made her, separated her from the others. As
she ran, her foot caught hold of a rock and sent her tumbling to
the ground. The impact jarred her greatly and scraped her knees.
But, she had to ignore the pain and continue running. They were
not far behind.
"Help me!" She screamed into the darkness, turning a corner and
hiding between two buildings. Her lungs fought to capture air,
and her heart tried desperately to pump despite the fear it
felt. She would rather die than be given a shot, would rather
spend an eternity in hell than marry someone she did not love.
"Help me!" She screamed again, heading further into the ally.
#Post#: 349951--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: Demonreach Date: September 18, 2013, 12:53 am
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Brian found himself weaving drunkenly down the sidewalk, the
moon glaring viciously at his grainy, blood-shot eyes. He was
always drunk, though. He couldn't remember a time when he was
sober. He didn't feel anything but numbness, which was what the
government wanted, really. Compliant people that didn't think
about rising up. It was a nice notion, but he didn't care either
way. Just give him some alcohol and he'd be fine. Sure, he took
the shots, but only because he didn't feel like getting arrested
for not doing it. He knew just about all of the local police
that patrolled the city and they knew him, as well. Which was
only right, given the fact he spent most of his nights at the
jailhouse when they found him passed out on the sidewalk.
Brian Jacques was an old-fashioned guy in the fact he carried
bladed-weapons, concealed beneath his clothes, but the police
usually let him keep them as he was too drunk to be of any use
to harm anyone but himself, and honestly who cared about a
drunk? No one.
The drunkard wore his usual clothes that consisted of a vest and
a long-sleeved shirt with blue jeans and some old, faded cowboy
boots. His black hair was disheveled and he had dark circles
under his blue eyes; his cheeks were sunk in slightly and he
wore a scraggly five o'clock shadow. He hummed as he stumbled
through the scarcely populated sidewalk, which wasn't unusual
given that people followed a strict curfew.
"Brian, Brian, Brian... Out stumbling again? Do you know what
time it is? Do you even know where you live?" came a familiar
voice.
"Ah! It's... you..." He stopped and squinted at the voice,
barely making out a figure. "Of cerse I know where I live... Why
twouldn't I? Think I'm sum... 'tard?"
The voice laughed, "Never, Brian. But you know the rules."
"Aye, I know. Couldn't you just overlook it this once? I'm just
a few blocks down."
"Well... How about I give you a ride? That way you don't get
pulled over again by someone less understanding."
"Well, if you insist..."
He was led to the car, and after some awkward maneuvering, found
himself in the back of the car.
"So, officer... How's the wife and kids?"
"Eh, you know. The usual."
"I know. But you shouldn't stop taking those shots, especially
in your position. You are a nice enough man, I suppose, and I
wouldn't want to find you dead."
"Wise words, but you are the same age as me, or around there.
Don't you have a wife or a kid?"
"Aye, I did. One is dead and the other is... away. Who wants a
drunk for a father? Or a husband?"
A small, tense silence reigned over the car before the young man
spoke again, "Thanks, for not ratting me out. What good is a
marriage or having a kid if you can't feel love for either of
them? I make sure they take them because... Well, I don't want
them to feel anything when I'm gone, y'know?"
"Bah! Take your shots and get over yourself, Marcus. Your family
needs you more than you need your emotions. I respect the fact
you want to feel for them, but you are just making it worse. For
everyone."
He could feel the man's eyes on him, hard and unflinching.
"Brian, are you sober?"
"What?! Of course not! Foolish talk! You can pull over here."
As the car pulled over, Brian looked at the young officer. "I'm
gonna regret this, but if you ever need a place to hide... I
have plenty of room. Just... don't put me in that position,
Marcus."
The man nodded his appreciation and drove off, leaving Brian
alone, once again, in front of his apartment complex. A complex
he owned.
Pulling out his keys after fumbling with them in his pockets, he
looked at each one through his drunken haze and gave out a small
sound of satisfaction when he found the right one.
Unlocking the door to the main lobby, he walked inside and
looked around, nodding to himself.
"Welcome back, Brian."
"Thanks, man. You did a good job tonight."
"I try. I'll see you in the morning."
He didn't know the mans name. In fact, he didn't know any of the
names of the people who lived here. They were all people who
didn't take their shots. Or if they did, were trustworthy enough
and understood. A few of them only took one shot a week or every
few days, some once a month. Even three times a month.
He didn't judge.
His wife had was a rebel.
He was the one who turned her in.
Finding his way to the middle level of the building, he went to
his three bedroom apartment with two bathrooms and a half bath.
It was fairly simple, whites and grays and blacks a major theme.
Some dark, neutral colors were splashed here and there, which
really drew the eye. They were like stains. He felt sick looking
at them.
He found himself in the all white master bathroom, looking at
the mirror.
He felt sick with what he saw.
Brian would be attractive to look at if he wasn't so rough
looking.
He wore a seemingly permanent scowl that didn't do much for his
already sunken in features and rough looks. He was a lean man
and was muscular, but it was a losing battle with his fitness.
While he wasn't fat, or even getting there, he was getting
skinnier. More hollowed out.
He felt it.
Sighing, he splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. He
looked at the needle of the shot-gun, contemplating. It had been
a few days since he had taken it, not that anyone noticed.
"Fuck it."
He put the gun to his neck and pulled the trigger, gasping at
the familiar pain and then, slowly, inexorably, he felt...
nothing.
His face and body relaxed, he slowly stripped himself of his
weapons and then his clothes and found himself laying on his
back, staring at the ceiling and closed his eyes.
Darkness soon enveloped him.
Brian Jacques slept like a baby and wouldn't wake up from the
usual nightmares.
#Post#: 349953--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: lexis Date: September 18, 2013, 2:57 pm
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Blaine didn't feel the fear she should have, being held at gun
point, she just felt annoyed. Uncomfortable. The hands that were
holding her still weren't gentle in the least, and she almost
told them to get the fuck off of her when she heard his foot
steps outside. She tensed up, then grinned and relaxed in the
hands of who-ever was there holding her-until the man holding
the gun to her head pushed it harder into her skull.
She whimpered, but the pain was okay.
The gun was nothing, she'd purposely broken bones just to feel
something-so this was minor. Nothing that would seriously hurt
her...unless he decided to pull the trigger. She rolled her eyes
at his reasoning for keeping the gun pointed to her head, the
way the situation looked right now, Robert would have thanked
them, then locked her in a cell for the rest of the night.
She didn't know who said what, or who talked the man into
putting the gun away, but suddenly the pressure was gone and she
was free.
"I'm Blaine." She shrugged, then leaned against the door. "I was
just running from my..fiance.." She hesitated, then continued.
"It'll be about another hour before he alerts any guards, he's
very prideful." She gave another shrug and looked around the
room, finishing her sentence in a mumble. "We do this every
week, and he never breaks habit. He'll go around trying to find
me on his own, and only when he's sure he can't, does he send
the search parties."
#Post#: 350035--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: Demonreach Date: September 18, 2013, 8:14 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
While he didn't wake up to the nightmares that haunted his mind
whilst he slept, he was awoke by screams. A woman's scream.
He vaguely recalled taking his shot but didn't really care. He
had done his duty as a civilian.
What he didn't like was the fact there was a woman outside
screaming and no one had shut her up.
Rolling himself out of bed, he dressed and pulled out a long
knife from the nightstand then took another. He dressed his
black and grey clothes, his eyes deadpan as he took the elevator
to the first floor. Everyone should be asleep by now. He was
displeased with himself for staying out so late. There were
rebels about. Not that he cared, his entire apartment complex
was filled with borderline rebels. Sometimes he thought he had
actual rebels staying here. It was... unnerving. He was filled
with the need to alert the authorities but shrugged it off. What
would be the point?
Brian was still drunk, he felt it, and that was probably why he
didn't even really give two fucks about anything. If he could
feel, he knew he would be relieved without having the burden of
feelings. He would go out and deal with the woman and her
pursuers.
He went out the alley door and watched as a woman ran past him.
He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her to a grinding
halt and towards him and into the hallway of the backroom.
"Enough of your screaming. People are trying to sleep. Now, get
inside before I change my mind." His usual rough voice of good
humor was distant, remote.
He didn't wait for her and walked back to the main lobby, "I do
not care which room you stay in. I don't want a name. Nothing
from you but peace and quiet. If you give me and these people
away, I'll make sure I kill you first." He turned towards her,
his eyes hard and unforgiving. "I won't even take a shot to do
it either."
Waiting, he looked her over and almost wished he hadn't taken a
shot, but dismissed it. "Once you've found the room you want,
that isn't taken, I'll show you the way. It's a rather big
complex and easy enough to find yourself lost."
#Post#: 350095--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: jellybean081486 Date: September 19, 2013, 6:59 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The stab of familiarity stung Kegan behind the eyes, causing her
to wipe at them furiously. This man, the one who had stopped
her, looked so familiar that it hurt, but she couldn't place
him. The fear pumping through her veins must have been having an
affect upon her, and her memory. She would certainly remember
him as soon as she was in the right state of mind, but it would
bug her until she did.
Her eyes moved over the foyer that he had pulled her into, a
gentle smile spreading across her lips. No one would dare to
look for her, least of all him. This was a place for her to be
alone and secure, and away from those dreadful shots. When her
eyes settled back upon the man, she gave a gentle smile. "I am
afraid that I must give my name, sir. My mother raised me with
manners, and it is proper to introduce ourselves to those who
help or speak to us. I am Kegan, Kegan Jacques. May I ask your
name?" Her voice was small but polite, yet held a rebellious
lilt to it.
Kegan started at the sound of approaching footsteps, two young
women near her age. Her dull blue eyes moved over each of them
in turn, and her hands gripped the bottom hem of her shirt. Who
were they? Were they here to turn her in? Or were they here for
a different purpose. As her gaze remained upon them, she
continued to speak to the man. "I have no reason to turn anyone
here in, and I would hope that would stay true for me. If you do
not mind, I would like to accompany you to your room. You are
familiar to me, but I do not know why; and I desperately wish to
determine why that is. Unless, you were raised without manner,
and would refuse my understandable request."
#Post#: 350101--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: Demonreach Date: September 19, 2013, 11:48 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
His expression grew hard as she gave her name, though he doubted
he would remember it through his drunken and emotionless haze.
"No names means no names. So no. You may not ask my name."
But he could see similar traits in her that he saw in himself
and didn't allow himself to follow that thought. He would take a
shot every day from this night on if he had to. He would drink
himself into a coma to avoid that thought from completing. That
being said, he looked as Lelain walked in with her baggage as
well. He gave a soft sigh.
More mouths to feed. More chance of word getting out.
But he didn't feel that way.
A part of him was glad to be doing this and another, more
ruthless part wanted to kick them all out on the streets and
turn them over to the authorities, but he knew he wouldn't. He'd
already done that before and, while he didn't feel regret or
anything over the fact his wife was dead, he didn't want anymore
lives on his conscience.
"And you can figure that out from the safety of your room. Mine
isn't big enough and no, I won't sleep on the floor. I am not
some gentleman, nor do I have manners. My mother is dead and so
is my father." He didn't even remember their names. Lelain was
the only one he knew and that was by mistake. He hated himself
for it, too. He wished she would go away. That they would all go
away.
He wanted to go away.
"No one here will turn anyone in."
But he smelled cigarette smoke from another room. Stalking
towards it, he popped his head in. "Take it outside. You know I
hate that shit." He then eyed the bottle of Jack but ignored it
as he stared back at her. "I've taken the shot just a few hours
ago, so if you would show these young ladies to whatever rooms
they want, I'd appreciate it."
Quickly, he grabbed his woman's hand and pulled her into the
room with the other two, and pointed to Lelain. "She will show
you where you want to sleep. Which is not my room."
It felt like his head was splitting open. He hadn't realized he
had slept through his drunken stupor. "I'm going to go drink
until I pass out. You can join me once you are done." His voice
was sharp and precise, words coming out in clipped tones as if
he was irritated. In a way, he was, if one could be while having
their emotions repressed. "Or not." He shrugged and walked back
to the elevator, hitting the button for his floor and rapidly
pressed the 'close doors' button to avoid having unwanted guests
with him.
He hated being sober and emotionless. Almost as bad as being
sober and feeling.
#Post#: 350104--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: lexis Date: September 20, 2013, 8:02 pm
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Blaine itched at the last place she got her shot, Robert had
tied her down to the bed while she was sleeping-something
someone at first told her was something"Kinky he must get off
too", but nothing had ever happened afterward. Not even while
she was slightly into him, way back when. But this recent time
they had given her an extra dose, something they thought would
hold her longer, keep her from rebelling from Robert too fast.
It had worked, took even longer to wear off, yet when her
sobering hit, it hit her hard. She was sick for a few weeks, bed
ridden, but still half on the drugs from the shot. Her arms were
still breaking out, and she could barley feel anything anymore,
even technically sober.
She nodded at Lelain, following her out and mumbling a "Thank
you," behind her.
She quietly followed her to, and into a building, where she saw
a man and woman talking-maybe having an argument. Not my
problem. She thought, continuing to follow Lelain quietly. She
just needed a place to sleep for tonight-she'd try to be gone by
morning. She wouldn't want anyone to get in trouble for hiding
her from her crazy fiance. He'd have the whole city searched
tomorrow to catch her if he could.
She scratched her neck and sighed. "Look, Lelain. If finding me
a room would be too much hassle, I can just sleep out with the
homeless people again. They share blankets, and its the very
last place Robert looks." She shrugged, refraining from the urge
to itch her arm, or the fresh tattoo on her leg.
#Post#: 350108--------------------------------------------------
Re: The City of Fallen Angels and Broken Wings
By: jellybean081486 Date: September 21, 2013, 12:53 am
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"Fine! I will!" She yelled at the man, her eyes deflating. How
could she determine why there was this feeling of familiarity.
She could tell that he would not answer her questions, and she
did not want to rial him up. He had offered her a place to stay,
off the streets, and warranted a measure of gratitude. That did
not mean that she would take his blunt, crude attitude kindly.
If he pushed her too hard, she would snap back without
restraint.
So, for now, she turned her attention to the woman, Lelain. The
way the woman watched her was unnerving, as though she had
claimed the man all for her own. With a sharp shake of her head,
she spoke as they walked, her eyes darting between Lelain and
the other woman. "Would you please not look at me as you are. I
am far from interested in that man. He is simply familiar to me,
and I do not know why."
Her mind continued to scour her memories, searching for his
presence within them. She peered into the room than back at
Lelain. "This room will do suit me just fine. I do not have a
problem with strangers, and I do not mind sharing a room with
anyone." Her smile was polite, displaying dazzling white teeth.
"Does that man, the one who owns this house, have any family?"
She called after Lelain, uncertain if she should join the woman
for a drink. She did not imbibe alcohol, or at least she hadn't
yet. "Has he ever said anything about a little sister, or his
parents to you?"
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