Post by Jessica Matthews on Aug 13, 2007 23:30:33 GMT -5
Name: Jessica Julie Matthews
[but call her Jessie (or, on occasion, Jess) or die]
Age/Grade: Seventeen && Senior
Character PB: Hayley Williams
Neighborhood/Dorm: LaTerre Estates
Extra Curricular Activities: She dances, sings, and writes; the latter of the three is something hardly anyone knows of.
Personality: [Do you mind that it’s in first person?]
“I’d have to say I’m a rather optimistic person. I guess there’s just something about me that can’t think tomorrow’s going to be shit, even if the rest of the days have gone that way. Maybe I just don’t like believing that life’s going to turn out badly, forever, and there’s nothing I can do. And, honestly, I couldn’t care less whether you think it’s ridiculous to be optimistic or whatever the hell you’re thinking because that’s just the way I am. Whether you have a good outlook or not, tomorrow will come and go and whether it was good or bad doesn’t matter, in the end. It’s all about how you look at it, isn’t it? It’s all about perspective. So I like to think if I keep my chin high and a smile on my face, I can make it through another day, even if it was shit, just like the last. Call it disillusioned, if you like, but it’s my way of making it. Maybe it’s even idealistic, I dunno. Fact is that it’s what I do.
“I’m a pretty empathetic person, I guess. I mean…to be simple (and frank), I listen. If someone has something on their mind, I’ll listen to what they’re saying. It annoys me to no end when people just come up to me and talk about themselves the entire time. I will never be so preoccupied with myself that I won’t stop talking about me. It’s different if there’s a problem, or an issue, but to never listen to what anybody else has to say or to dominate an entire freaking conversation when other people want to say something…yeah, that pisses me off. Anyway, back to my initial point, I’ll listen to the problems other people have…their concerns…all of that. And I’ll give them advice because I guess that’s just the kind of person I am as well. Not that I’m saying it’s always right, but sometimes I like to think that it helps, if only for a while. I’m also a fairly perceptive person, at least about things that don’t involve me, so I can usually tell when something’s up with someone. Especially if I know a person fairly well – then I might even be able to guess what they’re feeling…thinking.
“Oh, and then there’s the other stuff. I can have, well, a bit of a short temper when it comes right down to it. Especially on days where I’m dealing with a lot of shit. Just because I’m optimistic doesn’t mean I can’t have my days, after all. And if someone says something I don’t like or, worse, insults a friend of mine or something I believe in, I can definitely go off on them a bit. Yeah. That’s not always such a brilliant thing, either, and I’ve definitely got into some screaming rows due to my inability to stop myself from just going off on someone. Oh, and then there’s the thing about the dares…I’m not very good at backing out. If someone tells me I can’t do something, I will make sure to do it, just to prove to them that I can. Sometimes that’s exactly what they’re looking for. Often people goad me into doing things because they know exactly how to make me do it. It’s a problem I have, but I just can’t back down from things like that. I can be a completely obstinate person – stubborn and determined, especially when it comes to things like that. I’m not saying I can’t be open-minded, but I can also be incredibly stubborn. I guess that’s me, in a nutshell. Hmm…I don’t feel like I’ve told you that much about me. I guess if you really want to know me, talk to me...unless I happen to be a foul mood. Then that's not something I would recommend, personally.
“I’m also a rather playful person; sometimes I can be a bit crazy. If I know someone well, I just like to have fun with them and fool around. I can be serious if I want, but I do like to have fun; I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor, too. If I’m sarcastic, it’s all in fun, unless of course I’m speaking to someone I actually despise, in which case it’s an entirely different story. I’m loyal to my friends and family and if something happens to them, I will back them up ‘til the very end. However, I also tend to hold grudges; if someone stabs me in the back, I’m not likely to befriend them again in a moment’s notice.â€
History: “Well, let’s see. When Lily Anderson was sixteen, she was quite the…ah…riot, you could say. Guys wanted her and the girls wanted to be her friend. Though I can’t swear to all of it, I’m pretty sure she was the sort that nobody really wanted to wish harm upon her, despite her popularity; everyone, on the other hand, actually wanted to her friend. Of course, I didn’t live through this, but most of what I’ve heard leads me to this conclusion. She was young, yes, but there was no way in hell she was a virgin; despite her likeability, she’d gone out with several guys and she, in a way, was a bit of a player herself. Pick ‘em up, date ‘em, dump ‘em. Of course, I doubt her parents knew about all of this – it wouldn’t have been the way for a proper young lady to behave, ‘specially back then – even now, really. In fact, I’m fairly sure her parents thought she was just about the best damn thing in the world.
“Anyway, she met this guy, Jacob. He wasn’t particularly remarkable, from what I gathered; nothing stood out from him that wasn’t there in the other guys. They had a fling, a one night stand, and then it was over. Or it should’ve been – the thing of it was, unlike the other guys, Jacob left something behind: himself. Inside of her. When she found out, she absolutely freaked out; at first, she denied it and then at last told her parents. Somehow, they stuck by her (which makes them a hell of a lot better parents than she is, I guess). In spite of the fact that she had shattered their dreams, they remained beside her, unwilling to let her go. She was living with them when she had the baby (and, if you haven’t figured that out yet, it was me), but when I was, oh, two, she left home, decided to raise me on her own. She wasn’t perfect – sometimes she was little more than a kid herself. She did all right, though (for a while).
When I was ten, she met this guy, Alan. She’d had little things with other people, sure, but this was more serious than anything else. He was a nice enough guy, if a bit uptight and strict, and it was only a year later that they were married. They stuck together pretty well; he was a lawyer, which was lucky, as we were running pretty damn low in the money department. A year after that, when I was twelve, they had a kid together. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t much mind; in fact, I was more worried for them than anything else. She was working all the time – I was barely able to see her – and he wasn’t any better. I missed my mother, truthfully; she was always working and when she came home she’d just disappear into the other room with my stepfather. If I tried to bother her, she’d just shake me off somehow. It was almost like I didn’t exist anymore – and how was this life going to be for a child? They managed, though…although I don’t know if they could have without my help; I was practically Darren’s mother, to be honest.
And it was just about then, twelve or thirteen, that my mother started talking to me about boys. Yes, it was true that she hadn’t been around much, but she’d started talking to me again, which was a good thing. Unfortunately, the last thing I wanted to talk about was boys, though I suppose I put up a good enough show for her. After a while, when my friends were all over me about which boys were cute and hot, I started to feel a little frantic. I had absolutely no feelings for them. Granted, I could see which ones were more ‘attractive,’ and so perhaps that’s what they were saying? Over time, though, I knew I wasn’t attracted to them. While my friends were off talking about boys, I couldn’t help but feel a steadily growing curiosity for my own emotions – because it wasn’t guys I’d take the time to watch, but girls. I’d never heard anything about being gay, either, so it confused me endlessly. Oh, did I not mention my parents were hugely Catholic? Yeah, they are…and so, it seemed, had refused to tell me anything about the fact that not everyone in the world was straight. Not that, I suppose, there had been any need. But somehow I overheard someone talking about it and I started looking it up – ‘gay’ was the word the person had said. I was intrigued by the stories I read, the tales I delved into, and all of as sudden I found myself in all these stories. Suddenly I knew I wasn’t alone.
I was in my first relationship with a girl at fifteen and though that didn't last for more than a year and a half, I learned some valuable things at that time. Now I'm totally open about it, so anyone who knows me knows who I am and who I love. If they don't like it, fine, they can leave me alone. People that don't know me might not know, certainly, but they'll find out before long, whether I say it subtly, blatantly, or they find out through any of my friends or anyone who knows a thing about me. The only people who don't know are, yeah, my parents. God. They'd kill me; they're completely Catholic and are trying to set me up as we speak. I can't wait 'til I'm out of high school -- then I won't have to deal with hiding anymore.â€
Current Stats:
+Lesbian
+Single [not really looking much into it, either]
+Pretty content with life
+Just hanging
+Doing whatever she wants
Sample RP: [This isn’t Jessie; I hope that’s alright?]
“Once in a while, I forget. Have you ever just…forgotten?†There was a pause; the words that had been escaping with such haste, as if perhaps they weren’t relinquished fast enough they might be trapped within her forever. “I’ll imagine – a new life for myself, you know? A new place, somewhere out of this hellhole. Sometimes I can even make myself believe it’s real.†Another pause, a soft sigh escaping the lips in a manner so gentle and one that clashed so apparently with the hurried, rough nature of her previous words that they might have come from two entirely different people. “But that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Fooling myself into believing I can ever be out of this – this life. Never thought I was much of a dreamer, huh? Much better to be a cynic. Then you don’t have to deal with losing hope.†She took a deep breath, appeared to be steeling herself for a final statement. Her last words came out stronger, far more slowly; they were sure and painfully familiar all at once. “I don’t believe. I don’t have anything to believe in.†It was practiced, firm, undeniable; it was a remark that she could never refute because of the blunt honesty that lurked within.
Darkness engulfed the room, making it impossible to properly view the bearer of these seemingly endlessly changing tone, these words that had shifted their meaning entirely from beginning to end. At length, once eyes could adjust properly, a vague silhouette appeared; it was, admittedly, rather tall, but very obviously feminine. The proper curves attributed to that of the female species were framed in the dark outline; for several moments, it lingered there, moving so little she might have almost been accused of being a statue. However, the scarcity of any stillness from the girl could explain the reason way her alack of movement quickly evaporated and she was very suddenly pacing the room. However, it wasn’t long before she’d returned to the spot in which she was standing before – still just a vague silhouette against the backdrop of a small, shabby-looking room (mind, this is gathered in the almost-pitch dark).
And then, in an instant, without any sort of warning, light flooded the room and the faint flip of a switch could be heard. However, that was impossible to even recall in the moments following, for it was that nearly silent event which preceded the sudden shouting. “Why the hell aren’t you dressed yet, Tawny?†The words were brutal, forceful, unlike even those that the girl, thusly named Tawny, had spoken before. These words were meant to inflict damage; these words had been sharpened in an effort to harm. However, it was quite apparent, from the reaction – or, to put it better, lack thereof – of the teenager that she had developed her own armor to these comments. She didn’t even glance up from whatever object held her gaze, didn’t flinch; she responded, just as quickly, “I’m getting ready now.†The woman in the doorway huffed angrily and turned away, mumbling something about idiotic daughters under her breath. Though they were clearly quite audible comments, Tawny did not even appear to have noticed. Throughout their entire discussion, her eyes had remained locked upon one of many things that cluttered her desktop.
Upon closer inspection, not to mention the ability to examine everything with the light on, it was most obviously a picture. A girl smiled up from the middle of this picture, but it was that sort of smile that suggested she hadn’t been particularly prepared for the photograph. Her gaze did not rest directly on the camera and the grin she bore was that of a girl who appeared to be on the edge of laughter, with eyes dancing and carefree. By the posture of Tawny, so similar to that of her silhouette when there had been no light to vanquish all the darkness, it had been this picture she was speaking to. Now, an almost imperceptible pain flashed through her eyes, even as she shook her head and turned away. She had set her lips in a firm line and there was a hardness in her gaze, perhaps a hardness one could only gain by living the life she had. “It’s not like she’s gone forever,†the girl reminded herself, that note of firmness latched into her words. “She’ll be back before too long; she may be on the other side of the world, but she hasn’t died or anything. Besides, she’s your sister. Of course she’ll come back.â€
Because if Tawny didn’t believe those words, she had lost faith altogether. It was apparent the girl was struggling to maintain herself, for despite the lack of reaction she had issued upon her mother’s yell, this had obviously taken its toll on her. Obviously frustrated by her weaknesses, she hastily made her way to her closet and thoughtlessly grabbed some of the clothes from within, throwing them on the rather small, tattered bed in the process. With the light now turned on, it was apparent that the previous thoughts had been correct in the assumption that it was rather shabby: it was even more apparent without the darkness to cover it up, to stow it all away. Pain flaked off the walls and everything looked as if it had been used many times before Tawny herself had received them. A few moments later, the girl had pulled on a pair of old, tattered jeans, with several holes spaced sporadically upon the faded denim – though that had almost become something of a style for her. The shirt she bore clung to her skin, though perhaps more because it was smaller than it should’ve been than because she wanted it to ride high. Not that she hadn’t grown used to it; it hardly even crossed her mind any longer.
Having dismissed the thoughts of her sister (at least, for as long as might be possible for the girl), her mind was instead plagued with visions of another girl, though these emotions were certainly rather different from those she had experienced when faced with images of her sisters. It was lucky, she decided, that her mother couldn’t read her emotions – lucky that she never really tried. Besides that, it was apparent from the expression that she wore that she had learned long ago to disguise that all on some flat-out bad-ass guise. The façade she wore had become such a part of, sometimes even she had trouble distinguishing the difference; sometimes, even, they were the very same person. She shook the mental images away, glad no one around her house (never a home, not by any means) could read minds; dispelling the thoughts had, as of late, become no easy task, and it was truly beginning to get to her. What the hell was her problem? She ran a hand through her hair, black in color, though highlighted with several purple and green streaks throughout. It fell past her shoulders, though did not manage to surpass her mid-back; that was one thing she had always been fond of, her hair. She ran a slender hand through it, decided she need not do more with her already-wavy hair, and then she had clomped through the house and out the door which, to be perfectly honest, didn’t take more than a few moments. The quick flashes of images along the way were difficult to piece together, considering how fast she’d removed herself from the place, but altogether it look as bad (and, in many places, worse) than the room she resided in.
Emerald eyes danced as she caught sight of the car parked outside her parents’ house: corvette. /That/ was something her parents had certainly offered no part in purchasing the candy apple beauty she now beheld -- and, for that matter, neither had she. Her thoughts lit again upon her sister’s picture; this had been all because of her. Lucky she was off becoming rich somewhere; this was the one thing that her parents couldn’t take away from her, at least, couldn’t make any excuse to steal and use to purchase something else. A grin tugged at the edges of her lips and, for the first time on that lovely morning, she actually appeared genuinely happy. After reveling briefly in the feel of the cool leather, she shot out of the driveway and took off toward the one sanctuary she now had: Permanent Records Music Emporium. Parking quickly outside, double-checking the locks (really, she had learned one could never be too sure), she slipped inside. The cool relief of the place made it a certain heaven and, as she closed her eyes, she decided that perhaps she did have a home, after all; ‘home’ and ‘house’ had never needed to go hand-in-hand, at least in Tawny’s own perspective. With that ghost of a smile now hovering upon her lips, she began to walk through the aisles, scanning and halting and reading whenever she particularly felt the need. More than anything, this place had proven to be a getaway for her. What better place to be than one where she could be surrounded by music? That was truly the best feeling in the world.
[/color][/center][but call her Jessie (or, on occasion, Jess) or die]
Age/Grade: Seventeen && Senior
Character PB: Hayley Williams
Neighborhood/Dorm: LaTerre Estates
Extra Curricular Activities: She dances, sings, and writes; the latter of the three is something hardly anyone knows of.
Personality: [Do you mind that it’s in first person?]
“I’d have to say I’m a rather optimistic person. I guess there’s just something about me that can’t think tomorrow’s going to be shit, even if the rest of the days have gone that way. Maybe I just don’t like believing that life’s going to turn out badly, forever, and there’s nothing I can do. And, honestly, I couldn’t care less whether you think it’s ridiculous to be optimistic or whatever the hell you’re thinking because that’s just the way I am. Whether you have a good outlook or not, tomorrow will come and go and whether it was good or bad doesn’t matter, in the end. It’s all about how you look at it, isn’t it? It’s all about perspective. So I like to think if I keep my chin high and a smile on my face, I can make it through another day, even if it was shit, just like the last. Call it disillusioned, if you like, but it’s my way of making it. Maybe it’s even idealistic, I dunno. Fact is that it’s what I do.
“I’m a pretty empathetic person, I guess. I mean…to be simple (and frank), I listen. If someone has something on their mind, I’ll listen to what they’re saying. It annoys me to no end when people just come up to me and talk about themselves the entire time. I will never be so preoccupied with myself that I won’t stop talking about me. It’s different if there’s a problem, or an issue, but to never listen to what anybody else has to say or to dominate an entire freaking conversation when other people want to say something…yeah, that pisses me off. Anyway, back to my initial point, I’ll listen to the problems other people have…their concerns…all of that. And I’ll give them advice because I guess that’s just the kind of person I am as well. Not that I’m saying it’s always right, but sometimes I like to think that it helps, if only for a while. I’m also a fairly perceptive person, at least about things that don’t involve me, so I can usually tell when something’s up with someone. Especially if I know a person fairly well – then I might even be able to guess what they’re feeling…thinking.
“Oh, and then there’s the other stuff. I can have, well, a bit of a short temper when it comes right down to it. Especially on days where I’m dealing with a lot of shit. Just because I’m optimistic doesn’t mean I can’t have my days, after all. And if someone says something I don’t like or, worse, insults a friend of mine or something I believe in, I can definitely go off on them a bit. Yeah. That’s not always such a brilliant thing, either, and I’ve definitely got into some screaming rows due to my inability to stop myself from just going off on someone. Oh, and then there’s the thing about the dares…I’m not very good at backing out. If someone tells me I can’t do something, I will make sure to do it, just to prove to them that I can. Sometimes that’s exactly what they’re looking for. Often people goad me into doing things because they know exactly how to make me do it. It’s a problem I have, but I just can’t back down from things like that. I can be a completely obstinate person – stubborn and determined, especially when it comes to things like that. I’m not saying I can’t be open-minded, but I can also be incredibly stubborn. I guess that’s me, in a nutshell. Hmm…I don’t feel like I’ve told you that much about me. I guess if you really want to know me, talk to me...unless I happen to be a foul mood. Then that's not something I would recommend, personally.
“I’m also a rather playful person; sometimes I can be a bit crazy. If I know someone well, I just like to have fun with them and fool around. I can be serious if I want, but I do like to have fun; I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor, too. If I’m sarcastic, it’s all in fun, unless of course I’m speaking to someone I actually despise, in which case it’s an entirely different story. I’m loyal to my friends and family and if something happens to them, I will back them up ‘til the very end. However, I also tend to hold grudges; if someone stabs me in the back, I’m not likely to befriend them again in a moment’s notice.â€
History: “Well, let’s see. When Lily Anderson was sixteen, she was quite the…ah…riot, you could say. Guys wanted her and the girls wanted to be her friend. Though I can’t swear to all of it, I’m pretty sure she was the sort that nobody really wanted to wish harm upon her, despite her popularity; everyone, on the other hand, actually wanted to her friend. Of course, I didn’t live through this, but most of what I’ve heard leads me to this conclusion. She was young, yes, but there was no way in hell she was a virgin; despite her likeability, she’d gone out with several guys and she, in a way, was a bit of a player herself. Pick ‘em up, date ‘em, dump ‘em. Of course, I doubt her parents knew about all of this – it wouldn’t have been the way for a proper young lady to behave, ‘specially back then – even now, really. In fact, I’m fairly sure her parents thought she was just about the best damn thing in the world.
“Anyway, she met this guy, Jacob. He wasn’t particularly remarkable, from what I gathered; nothing stood out from him that wasn’t there in the other guys. They had a fling, a one night stand, and then it was over. Or it should’ve been – the thing of it was, unlike the other guys, Jacob left something behind: himself. Inside of her. When she found out, she absolutely freaked out; at first, she denied it and then at last told her parents. Somehow, they stuck by her (which makes them a hell of a lot better parents than she is, I guess). In spite of the fact that she had shattered their dreams, they remained beside her, unwilling to let her go. She was living with them when she had the baby (and, if you haven’t figured that out yet, it was me), but when I was, oh, two, she left home, decided to raise me on her own. She wasn’t perfect – sometimes she was little more than a kid herself. She did all right, though (for a while).
When I was ten, she met this guy, Alan. She’d had little things with other people, sure, but this was more serious than anything else. He was a nice enough guy, if a bit uptight and strict, and it was only a year later that they were married. They stuck together pretty well; he was a lawyer, which was lucky, as we were running pretty damn low in the money department. A year after that, when I was twelve, they had a kid together. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t much mind; in fact, I was more worried for them than anything else. She was working all the time – I was barely able to see her – and he wasn’t any better. I missed my mother, truthfully; she was always working and when she came home she’d just disappear into the other room with my stepfather. If I tried to bother her, she’d just shake me off somehow. It was almost like I didn’t exist anymore – and how was this life going to be for a child? They managed, though…although I don’t know if they could have without my help; I was practically Darren’s mother, to be honest.
And it was just about then, twelve or thirteen, that my mother started talking to me about boys. Yes, it was true that she hadn’t been around much, but she’d started talking to me again, which was a good thing. Unfortunately, the last thing I wanted to talk about was boys, though I suppose I put up a good enough show for her. After a while, when my friends were all over me about which boys were cute and hot, I started to feel a little frantic. I had absolutely no feelings for them. Granted, I could see which ones were more ‘attractive,’ and so perhaps that’s what they were saying? Over time, though, I knew I wasn’t attracted to them. While my friends were off talking about boys, I couldn’t help but feel a steadily growing curiosity for my own emotions – because it wasn’t guys I’d take the time to watch, but girls. I’d never heard anything about being gay, either, so it confused me endlessly. Oh, did I not mention my parents were hugely Catholic? Yeah, they are…and so, it seemed, had refused to tell me anything about the fact that not everyone in the world was straight. Not that, I suppose, there had been any need. But somehow I overheard someone talking about it and I started looking it up – ‘gay’ was the word the person had said. I was intrigued by the stories I read, the tales I delved into, and all of as sudden I found myself in all these stories. Suddenly I knew I wasn’t alone.
I was in my first relationship with a girl at fifteen and though that didn't last for more than a year and a half, I learned some valuable things at that time. Now I'm totally open about it, so anyone who knows me knows who I am and who I love. If they don't like it, fine, they can leave me alone. People that don't know me might not know, certainly, but they'll find out before long, whether I say it subtly, blatantly, or they find out through any of my friends or anyone who knows a thing about me. The only people who don't know are, yeah, my parents. God. They'd kill me; they're completely Catholic and are trying to set me up as we speak. I can't wait 'til I'm out of high school -- then I won't have to deal with hiding anymore.â€
Current Stats:
+Lesbian
+Single [not really looking much into it, either]
+Pretty content with life
+Just hanging
+Doing whatever she wants
Sample RP: [This isn’t Jessie; I hope that’s alright?]
“Once in a while, I forget. Have you ever just…forgotten?†There was a pause; the words that had been escaping with such haste, as if perhaps they weren’t relinquished fast enough they might be trapped within her forever. “I’ll imagine – a new life for myself, you know? A new place, somewhere out of this hellhole. Sometimes I can even make myself believe it’s real.†Another pause, a soft sigh escaping the lips in a manner so gentle and one that clashed so apparently with the hurried, rough nature of her previous words that they might have come from two entirely different people. “But that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Fooling myself into believing I can ever be out of this – this life. Never thought I was much of a dreamer, huh? Much better to be a cynic. Then you don’t have to deal with losing hope.†She took a deep breath, appeared to be steeling herself for a final statement. Her last words came out stronger, far more slowly; they were sure and painfully familiar all at once. “I don’t believe. I don’t have anything to believe in.†It was practiced, firm, undeniable; it was a remark that she could never refute because of the blunt honesty that lurked within.
Darkness engulfed the room, making it impossible to properly view the bearer of these seemingly endlessly changing tone, these words that had shifted their meaning entirely from beginning to end. At length, once eyes could adjust properly, a vague silhouette appeared; it was, admittedly, rather tall, but very obviously feminine. The proper curves attributed to that of the female species were framed in the dark outline; for several moments, it lingered there, moving so little she might have almost been accused of being a statue. However, the scarcity of any stillness from the girl could explain the reason way her alack of movement quickly evaporated and she was very suddenly pacing the room. However, it wasn’t long before she’d returned to the spot in which she was standing before – still just a vague silhouette against the backdrop of a small, shabby-looking room (mind, this is gathered in the almost-pitch dark).
And then, in an instant, without any sort of warning, light flooded the room and the faint flip of a switch could be heard. However, that was impossible to even recall in the moments following, for it was that nearly silent event which preceded the sudden shouting. “Why the hell aren’t you dressed yet, Tawny?†The words were brutal, forceful, unlike even those that the girl, thusly named Tawny, had spoken before. These words were meant to inflict damage; these words had been sharpened in an effort to harm. However, it was quite apparent, from the reaction – or, to put it better, lack thereof – of the teenager that she had developed her own armor to these comments. She didn’t even glance up from whatever object held her gaze, didn’t flinch; she responded, just as quickly, “I’m getting ready now.†The woman in the doorway huffed angrily and turned away, mumbling something about idiotic daughters under her breath. Though they were clearly quite audible comments, Tawny did not even appear to have noticed. Throughout their entire discussion, her eyes had remained locked upon one of many things that cluttered her desktop.
Upon closer inspection, not to mention the ability to examine everything with the light on, it was most obviously a picture. A girl smiled up from the middle of this picture, but it was that sort of smile that suggested she hadn’t been particularly prepared for the photograph. Her gaze did not rest directly on the camera and the grin she bore was that of a girl who appeared to be on the edge of laughter, with eyes dancing and carefree. By the posture of Tawny, so similar to that of her silhouette when there had been no light to vanquish all the darkness, it had been this picture she was speaking to. Now, an almost imperceptible pain flashed through her eyes, even as she shook her head and turned away. She had set her lips in a firm line and there was a hardness in her gaze, perhaps a hardness one could only gain by living the life she had. “It’s not like she’s gone forever,†the girl reminded herself, that note of firmness latched into her words. “She’ll be back before too long; she may be on the other side of the world, but she hasn’t died or anything. Besides, she’s your sister. Of course she’ll come back.â€
Because if Tawny didn’t believe those words, she had lost faith altogether. It was apparent the girl was struggling to maintain herself, for despite the lack of reaction she had issued upon her mother’s yell, this had obviously taken its toll on her. Obviously frustrated by her weaknesses, she hastily made her way to her closet and thoughtlessly grabbed some of the clothes from within, throwing them on the rather small, tattered bed in the process. With the light now turned on, it was apparent that the previous thoughts had been correct in the assumption that it was rather shabby: it was even more apparent without the darkness to cover it up, to stow it all away. Pain flaked off the walls and everything looked as if it had been used many times before Tawny herself had received them. A few moments later, the girl had pulled on a pair of old, tattered jeans, with several holes spaced sporadically upon the faded denim – though that had almost become something of a style for her. The shirt she bore clung to her skin, though perhaps more because it was smaller than it should’ve been than because she wanted it to ride high. Not that she hadn’t grown used to it; it hardly even crossed her mind any longer.
Having dismissed the thoughts of her sister (at least, for as long as might be possible for the girl), her mind was instead plagued with visions of another girl, though these emotions were certainly rather different from those she had experienced when faced with images of her sisters. It was lucky, she decided, that her mother couldn’t read her emotions – lucky that she never really tried. Besides that, it was apparent from the expression that she wore that she had learned long ago to disguise that all on some flat-out bad-ass guise. The façade she wore had become such a part of, sometimes even she had trouble distinguishing the difference; sometimes, even, they were the very same person. She shook the mental images away, glad no one around her house (never a home, not by any means) could read minds; dispelling the thoughts had, as of late, become no easy task, and it was truly beginning to get to her. What the hell was her problem? She ran a hand through her hair, black in color, though highlighted with several purple and green streaks throughout. It fell past her shoulders, though did not manage to surpass her mid-back; that was one thing she had always been fond of, her hair. She ran a slender hand through it, decided she need not do more with her already-wavy hair, and then she had clomped through the house and out the door which, to be perfectly honest, didn’t take more than a few moments. The quick flashes of images along the way were difficult to piece together, considering how fast she’d removed herself from the place, but altogether it look as bad (and, in many places, worse) than the room she resided in.
Emerald eyes danced as she caught sight of the car parked outside her parents’ house: corvette. /That/ was something her parents had certainly offered no part in purchasing the candy apple beauty she now beheld -- and, for that matter, neither had she. Her thoughts lit again upon her sister’s picture; this had been all because of her. Lucky she was off becoming rich somewhere; this was the one thing that her parents couldn’t take away from her, at least, couldn’t make any excuse to steal and use to purchase something else. A grin tugged at the edges of her lips and, for the first time on that lovely morning, she actually appeared genuinely happy. After reveling briefly in the feel of the cool leather, she shot out of the driveway and took off toward the one sanctuary she now had: Permanent Records Music Emporium. Parking quickly outside, double-checking the locks (really, she had learned one could never be too sure), she slipped inside. The cool relief of the place made it a certain heaven and, as she closed her eyes, she decided that perhaps she did have a home, after all; ‘home’ and ‘house’ had never needed to go hand-in-hand, at least in Tawny’s own perspective. With that ghost of a smile now hovering upon her lips, she began to walk through the aisles, scanning and halting and reading whenever she particularly felt the need. More than anything, this place had proven to be a getaway for her. What better place to be than one where she could be surrounded by music? That was truly the best feeling in the world.