#lustfulquotations

[whatsbehindthefacade]

@lustfulquotations | starter call

Life in Obsidian is far from easy.

In truth, Lunarrow's not sure it's ever particularly been easy. He only has vague memories himself of a life before the war, before the earthquakes, before people started freezing. It's been spread about that any of the 'freezers' all froze at the age of eighteen, but the Lost know that's not quite true. Sure, some of them did, but there's more of a spread than most admit. His brother was almost twenty when it hit, and him? He's sixteen forever. Not to mention Tink, forever thirteen and forever pissed about it. He can't say he blames him really, being thirteen sucks.

That being said, before the war he'd never been beaten then chased down several blocks by a group of militia until he'd finally managed to slip into the tunnels and lose them, meanwhile this is the third time this month already. Falco's getting more militant, more pissy, they've all noticed it. He hadn't even been doing anything this time, just taking a shortcut through the streets and trying to get a little bit of a breath of fresh air. That fun had certainly been cut short.

Finally skidding to a halt, after taking several random turns, just in case he'd been followed, Lunarrow lets himself sit down on a piece of upturned debris, hunching over to catch his breath. He can already feel the black eye blooming across his face, a slight crust of blood under his nose, and he's pretty sure his back is going to be black and blue for a few days, but all in all, it's not the worst he's had. They heal quickly too, a small benefit.

The sound of footsteps has him snapping to attention, one hand grabbing a chunk of debris as he readies himself to run again. But instead a familiar mop of blond curls appears and he relaxes again, slumping back against the wall of the tunnel.

"Oh, Strat, it's just you..."

[whatsbehindthefacade]

@lustfulquotations asked: ' You want to shut away the pieces of a broken heart ' - Strat :)

He's curled up on the mattress, knees pulled up to his chest, seeming almost smaller than usual. His face still aches, the wound across his mouth and nose still scabbing and sore though it's been a week since he got it, and for the most part, he's kept himself hidden away up here, not quite able to pluck up the courage to put himself back into the middle of the Lost. He knows they don't blame him, knows they're worried, but there's still that stabbing guilt. This is all his fault, and they're a damn sight lucky no one got killed.

All because of him.

Strat's voice catches his attention, but he doesn't raise his head, instead keeping his eyes focused on the mattress, fingers pulling at the edge where some of the stuffing is coming loose. He's barely spoken to anybody these past few days, lost in his own thoughts and half afraid what he might see if he looks any of them in the eye.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, though winces at the way the movement pulls at the wound.

[unfortunateheiress]

Starter rp

( open for @lustfulquotations and @whatsbehindthefacade )

after the six months of being in her bedroom raven decided she's had enough of being alone plus her mother was allowed freedom why couldn't she but then again her boyfriend told her to go away she was stuck, but she decided to leave her bedroom anyway to find the deep end to where everyone she knew was, she was almost to scared to go into the tunnel though just incase her dad found her and followed her again but she decided to go there anyway “mom you down here? hello is anyone around?"

she was also scared Strat wouldn't recognize her because of how long they have been away from each other, and how shes become more mature due to her dad controlling her and no mother around to look after her, she just wanted to apologies to him and Tink for everything they thought she did but she didn't as it was all her father "strat? tink? if youre here all i would like to do is apologise for my actions i understand why you sent me away, i know it was all my fault, please forgive me, if you don’t want me I can go home, but I will be on top of the tunnel waiting if anyone wants to talk”

she sat down on the tunnel crying her eyes out knowing that no one would actually reply to her, so why should she try anymore than she already did, she was stupid to scare them off like that, but then she had to be on look out because of her fathers guards she didn't want to risk anything else happing to the lost, not that shes done enough damage already well she thought she did, she opned her diary and started to write in it, just waiting for anything or anyone to come see her

[whatsbehindthefacade]

what keeps your soul tethered to the mortal realm?

regret

perhaps you have unfinished business with someone. perhaps you wish things had gone differently. unfortunately, there is no such thing as fair. come to terms with your regrets. acknowledge them, but do not let them tie you down. allow yourself to accept what cannot be changed. that is the only way you will ever be free. learn to accept. learn to move on. learn that nothing is perfect. you deserve to be free despite your wrong doings and regrets.

tagged by: @hidesinhiswork

tagging: @songandflame, @lustfulquotations , @unfortunateheiress, @twistedcveryway, @wrensfeatheredpen, @reverdies and anyone else who wants to!

[unfortunateheiress]

raven looks at Strat and sighs "but how do you know nothing bad is going to happen to any of us, what if my dad finds any of you, i don't want the lost being killed by him, because i know he will give me the blame, that's what my dream told me, and mum got hurt to, i want everyone i love to be safe, and warm" she cuddles into him remembering that most of them had had a bad past and she didn't want to ruin it again for the future "i think its best for me to be my dads good girl, but then again i don't want to be locked in my bedroom again im so bored of the same old walls with the same old things in it, but i just want to stay here, i love it here even if i will get cold and sick from the rain and the winters here"

raven then puts a blanket over herself and strat trying to keep herself warm and Strat like her mother showed her how to keep warm and she is a mums girl "Strat could i bring mum here to live, i know shes not safe at home, i have seen what dad does to her and its not nice at all, im scared for her, please Strat do ir for me, also you still kept the promise for me about screwing around" she gives him a playful shove and teases him and plays with his hair.

“I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday” - Strat!

raven was dreaming again finally, she lied to her dad about taking them, she looked out her window looking for Strat, she wanted to tell him the good news that she can dream again, she was so excited to be dreaming, she then runs to the deep end, she finally knew her way around "Strat, you here? i have something to tell you, i can dream i remember my dreams, they are sometimes scary, but mostly wonderful" she smiles and lies down next to him and cuddles him softly "Strat, wake up i have something to tell you, i can finally dream, i stopped taking the sleep depressant dad and mum give me, but i needed to see you as the nightmares are bad, i have seen your body dead on the floor with blood on it, i couldn't help you, i tired everything"

she hides her face in his shoulder knowing he was still breathing and their body's where still rhyming together she started to calm down but was still crying badly because of the dream she just had she was scared

[whatsbehindthefacade]

Reassured now that it was just Strat, and that there was, at least currently, no present danger, Lunarrow let the piece of debris drop from between his fingers and clunk against the ground quietly. There's a certain trust inherent in all the freezers for each other, the knowledge that it truly is them against the world most of the time. They look out for each other, because sure as hell no one else is going to. The normal residents of Obsidian don't care for them, that's for certain, and even their apathy is one of the more agreeable moods towards them. The danger is Falco and his cronies, forever stalking the streets. There's no safety for them above ground, not anymore, and every venture outside is taken at a calculated risk.

Even the least intelligent of them knows the danger. They're not the biggest group- there have been more in the past, but large numbers never last. Some get killed in the crossfire, others just go missing. There's talk, rumours, about a lab within Falco Tower, of some of their own being imprisoned there, tortured, experimented on. How true that might be, no one is entirely sure, but the fact remains that they've lost plenty over the years, and they'll likely lose more in the future. It's a dangerous game.

"It's absolutely crawling with them up there. Something's going on." Falco was up to something, and Lunarrow didn't like it. Pushing a hand through tangled brown hair, he briefly slipped his headband off so he could peel the strands away from his face, before tying it back in place, wincing a little as the edge of the fabric rubbed against a small cut at his temple. He looked a mess, he had no doubt, but then again, none of the Lost ever really looked fully put together.

Strat's question has him looking up, a shaft of light creeping through the tunnel illuminating the bruising on his face. The boy blinked, then shrugged a little, "I've had worse. They caught me down near the old community centre. Took a bit to get free, then they chased me half a mile. They're getting worse." While beatings were common, the militia had never been quite that persistent before.

Strat entered the tunnel with a reduced speed at the sight of the figure in the distance that he himself at first couldn't make out, his hands slowly raising up by his sides as a sign of him having no weaponry on him (marking himself as not a threat to anyone who might perceive him in such a way) while he approached his fellow Freezer with a far more steady stance once Strat had identified who they were as they called out to him, “Hold your fire,” He began, offering a more joking response to ease the tension in the atmosphere while offering his own quick glance over his shoulder in case their tied anxieties were both ones with a cause, his voice remaining somewhere between a whisper and a soft spoken volume that produced little to no sound of echo in the refuge they were both standing in as the male experimented with attempts to try and make their words as inaudible to any potential threat, your average bystander or not. You couldn't trust anyone anymore outside of those you knew in the world the way it was now, especially after the kind of fear mongering propaganda Falco had penned that was comedically inaccurate to the teenagers yet concerningly real for those who had never wanted to even shake hands with the mutants of a former Manhattan, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. If I'd known you were down here taking a minute to yourself, I would have picked another route."  

Surly enough, Strat didn’t blame Lunarrow for their haste in finding self defence and acknowledging to himself silently that even if he had thrown it with applaudable precision, the blonde would still carry no grievance in the paranoia that followed every single Lost member around in their escapade of life like a street-bound puppy in search for a home. He was the same in many ways, every out of place sound, every shallow alleyway, every hitched breath caused him to jump up to his feet or, at the very least, mentally prepare for any possible attack Falco had aimed their way via allocating any exit, hiding position, weapon and moon-lit shadow present in an open filing cabinet within his mind to store for either now or some later altercation. There had been times where Strat had found himself completely cornered in mortified terror and had taken a harsh beating or two by the merciless force of individuals who had little to no regard for his own survival at the end of their assertion of such an immense dominance however, they had been in the early days when he didn’t know how to be as quick on his feet or how every route had an escape or two if you knew where to look and if they did take place now and Strat returned with curls mangled with a light red tint, he never usually spoke about it to anyone, he didn’t need to. It was an unspoken thing that everyone living amongst the underground knew very well, a language with no syllables or teacher that you picked up over time, one which told them to stay in for today. Whatever you wanted out in Obsidian wasn’t worth it even if they could take the heat. 

He’d planned to pull his usual quest of an unplanned trek of the city as if he hadn’t seen every inch of it a million times over; however, he had ultimately decided against it when he saw how every street seemed to inhabit one kind of army and it was the kind Strat despised. The cowards who kept people within their homes, who hit on those who had none, the monsters who you could never meet the eye of because they refused words, only initiating violent action. That was how they solved all conflict, much like the man who commanded them and it seemed they were all mirrored reflectors of his already glistening ego and longing for constant control. Strat liked sticking to rooftops on most occasions, finding any excuse to climb up a rigid ladder covered with rust and letting the wind carry itself through his fingertips and flushed cheeks, the sensation of it all growing more intense the higher he got which, in turn, was all the motivation he needed to reach the top. It was like nature itself was looking down upon him and saying, “Well, hurry up, move it! You haven’t got forever, you know?!” It seemed to forget that Strat wasn’t like the regular risk takers out there when he felt like he truly did and not in the metaphorical sense either. He could swing on that ladder for days, weeks, months, years even, letting his left hand and leg hang out as his right did all the heavy work before swapping them over to do it all again and it wouldn’t change a thing. Once he reached today’s destination of an apartment complex that wasn’t too much of a distance from the residing location of Obsidian’s strange eternal phenomena, it was the echoing sounds of synchronised footsteps that caught his attention, causing the boy to cautiously look down at the bird’s eye view from above with hesitancy at the sight he was preparing himself to find and, sure enough, it was there. The streets once filled with concrete pavements instead were populated by nothing more than armoured suits that Strat could distinguish from the soulless blanket of night by their faint movements that made it look like he were floating above the once blue sea water that was now drenched in black ink that had an occasional tremor in an otherwise smooth pattern of movements. So, as mentioned Strat had retreated, using his own better judgement to decide against the idea of risking the safety of his family just for the sake of a pretty view or two.

“It seems they’ve got every single one of them out there tonight,” The eighteen year old commented in observation with a frown as he turned his back away from the boy he was speaking with and instead drew his focus to the world beyond the tunnel, stuck in a limbo of deep, unspoken thought that could happen at any time and was something you would have to get used to if becoming an acquaintance of The Lost leader himself, "Are you alright, Luna?" Strat moved himself back around by the very edge of his left boot's heel that was covered in both dirt that Strat had yet to clean as well as markings he could never mend, having taken notice of the traces of injury on Lunarrow's face upon entry but felt it was best to leave his concerns floating amongst in the air as, whether they explicitly addressed it or not, that wouldn't change the fact that it had happened and that they both knew how the event had most likely played out without the tragic, reluctantly revisited stories passing between one another. The sheer existence of a Lost had triggered unrequited aggression, causing it to escalate into more kicks, more punches, more hits against hard surfaces and hopefully another great exit made by those who hadn't been captured. Or killed. Or both, you could never truly know what happened to the former group members that never found their way back home again.

[whatsbehindthefacade]

He's had a lot of time to think. Tink knows he let his temper get the best of him, let his jealousy take over, and it's not something he's particularly proud of, but he's also fairly sure that he's not entirely in the wrong either. That last argument they'd shared still ran through his brain, the way Strat had just dismissed him so easily in favour of focusing on Raven, how he'd ignored his begging for help. He'd felt abandoned, had felt like his heart had been ripped out and stamped on. To hear Strat denounce him as just being a little kid had felt like the ultimate betrayal, like the one person he'd always trusted to have his back, to look after him, to help him when he needed it, had suddenly ripped all that support away. He'd felt lost, drowning under waves of fear and loneliness, with no sign of surfacing.

He can see the way Strat's face changes at the sign of the ugly wound, at the way it's scabbed over in parts, bruising still a dark purple around his nose and upper lip. Zahara has done her best to clean it up, but there's little else that can be done now except waiting for it to heal over time. It will take time though, and he's stuck with the pain and discomfort until then, another reason why he's shut himself away. He hasn't exactly been in the mood for socialising after all, not when even moving his face is enough to spark pain through him.

"Don't go."

He almost surprises himself with the words, hissing a little in pain and curling in on himself as the words pull at the scabs, a fresh trickle of blood creasing at the corner of his mouth. But he doesn't want Strat to leave. There's part of him that's desperate for that old familiar reassurance, that wants Strat to hold him again and tell him that everything will be okay, like the old days.

'',, A face had never changed faster than Strat's at the sheer sight of Tink's wound up close. There was something about its prominence on the boy's face that made him instantly feel as though the Lost member that was before him had impaled him with the blade of a pocket knife in the slowly healing wound he had gained from his journey across the cliff-side after Raven's first parting from him. It stung, the blonde acknowledging if he had simply allowed himself to control his temper, to display some form of understanding for the perspective of another who wasn't as eager as the rest for a new change being sprung on them, if he had cared about Tink's own feelings, none of this would have happened. If the boy before him was the culprit of the crime, Strat had been the unknowing mastermind behind the entire operation, providing the final push for him to nearly be the victim of a murder with the use of a single bullet. If the blonde boy had known that a body would jump in front of him at the raise of the weapon and if he had known that body would belong to Tink, maybe it all would of played out differently. If he had shoved him aside, if he himself had just moved out of the way of Falco's rage in the first place then perhaps that day could have been acted out as a entirely new play. But then again, what if he had got someone else hurt in the process of doing that? What if he had refused to engage, if he had shifted himself swiftly to the right and a bullet shot through any of The Lost who were in close radius to him instead? What if Raven had been the one to be the accidental casualty? Strat would rather it be him becoming the punching bag of another instead of anyone he loved without even a moment of hesitation for thought, especially when feeling as though such an altercation could not have ended without a violent outbreak causing another to be caught in the cross fire of someone else's rampage. Why hadn't he done more? At such a pivotal moment, after having to fight for every possible thing you could imagine, he couldn't defend and protect his own soulmate and closest companion from the fate of being beaten to such an extent that death had been waiting for its chance to leap and grab onto them. What apology could he give? What amount of words could he use to convey how sorry he was and forever would be? Because, in Strat's eyes, those words would be cheap and meaningless as the classic 'No one blames you' line he had brought out early on that got a deserving scoff from the person on the mattress as, no matter how true any of what he said could be, it was too simple, too easy and could be something just said as though from a script that held no substance other than to make Strat feel better and like he had done the right thing in order to ease his own conscience. Despite how awkward the lack of conversation was and how long each second felt as though it had been stretched to last an hour, the leader of The Lost remained determined in going somewhere in their interaction even if the development itself was minuscule. He refused to leave Tink completely isolated although if that was what they wanted, Strat wouldn't force himself to stay unmoved when it would clearly take time before the burnt bridges could be crossed again however, this was time Strat was very willing to take.

Strat found himself ultimately turning so that he could position himself closer to Tink, moving from only showing the individual his side profile to the front view so that they completely faced one another. "Tink.." he began with a deep sigh and a slow shake of his head, saying their name in the way he usually found himself vocalising during these kinds of circumstances where the aforementioned was hurt in some capacity and that was a voice drenched with excessive compassion but also enough concernment to drown any unsuspecting person swimming amongst it in one of Strat's long-held gazes, "I'm so sorry for everything that happened. For everything I should and should never had said to you. I don't ask for your forgiveness for what I've put you through, I know that is something I don't deserve but...I want you to know how deeply I have and always will care about you and how glad I am that you're alive. If you'd like me to leave you alone, I will, I won't stay if you'd like to be by yourself but I will forever be in your corner if you need me regardless of what will or has happened between us. Nothing could ever change that."

[whatsbehindthefacade]

He'd been so angry. So jealous. Hurting so much and no one had seemed to see, or if they did, they dismissed it. What had they to worry about, he was just a little kid after all. Weaker than the rest of them. Trying so desperately to understand, to match up, but always falling short no matter what he did. It was always like that, and it always infuriated him. No matter what, he was never going to catch up with the rest of them. He would always be the baby in their eyes, all because of some freak mutation of a mutation. So he'd made a deal with the devil, in the desperate hope of at least returning things to the way they'd once been, of going back to what was normal, where he could forget about dark haired girls. And then Falco had pulled out the gun, had started pointing it in Strat's direction, and panic had set his course. No matter what, he couldn't let Strat get hurt. And then the beating. Part of him had almost expected to feel the gun go off, but he'd been lucky on that front. He'd thought he was going to die, and they'd made peace with it in a way, even though the thought terrified them. At least it would be for Strat.

He'd mostly just stayed up here alone. Zahara had of course checked up on him, and Denym had clambered up from time to time to sit with him and keep him company. Not that Tink had been very good company in return, mostly ignoring the others presence. No one blames you. Yeah right, he couldn't help but let out a soft scoff at that, wincing again. He's hardly lost his memory. How could you do this to us, Tink? To me? He's not stupid. He knows it's his fault. Just like always, he's fucked up. He listens to Strat ask to see his face and shrinks a little. The wound smarts, and though he's pretty sure it should heal, he has the feeling it's going to scar. Somewhat reluctantly, he rolls over to face Strat, raising his head though not quite able to meet his gaze, but making the ugly wound more than visible.

Nothing seemed 'fine' - not really anyway. The Deep End felt rattled to its core and no matter what anyone attempted to do to resolve it, the unease remained in the air and it seemed as though it wasn't going anywhere for a while. It was one of those moments you knew would come someday but you never knew how or when so you always were on high alert for when it eventually did however, no one had expected it to unfold the way it did during such a joyous high. They were only a moment away from casualty, from grief, from something truly irreversible and Strat would forever remain in gratitude that the universe decided to offer them mercy in this incidence. It had been much quieter amongst The Lost teens as of late, their conversations contained and told in whispers as they did their best to try and find a new normal amongst the chaos, which is something they had grown accustomed to doing over the years so, perhaps it was just a shake in the rollercoaster of life they had bene propelled on. At the absence of Raven, there had definitely been an emptiness that took up Strat's existence. That was the only possible way of communicating this as he himself was unable to vocally describe it to anyone. It felt like he were floating amongst life but was instead living it back behind some glass window that kept him out, blocking the sound, the people, the environment and he couldn't break it despite how much was thrown at the single barrier in his way but, regardless of this factor, he had done his best to move forward in helping keep the rest of his found-family alive and thriving to the best of his own ability and kept a close eye on Tink from a distance though he never physically approaching him until this very moment in time.

" Funny thing is, I don't believe you are," Strat responded softly with a sigh, placing himself beside the mattress and sitting to the left of Tink, eyes glancing to the side of him in order to look at the individual next to him who appeared to be in more pain than they wanted to let on and allow this conversation to be something that was both serious but also as intimate and well-meaning as the boy could make it, "I want you to know that no one blames for you what happened, Tink. Not a single person holds a grudge against you in any way, especially me. We're all just glad that you're alright." Strat proceeded to lean forward, attempting to take a quick look at the wounds that had afflicted the brunette that were obviously still a pain to his everyday activity. Any brave face his companion was putting on only made Strat more concerned "Would you mind if I took a look? I know Zahara has probably attempted to bug you a few times throughout the week but I just want to make sure everything is healing as they should be. I'll keep my distance if that's what you want me to do, I promise."