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Post by aislinn morgenstern on Jan 6, 2011 0:10:19 GMT -5
 i have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.
-EMILY BRONTE
} } AND Y O U ARE?
- - - - -name.
Aislinn Luciana Morgenstern. "That sounds pretty loaded, huh? Yeah, I know. Call me Ash or Anya. Though a friend likes to call me Morgenstern or Ashes, while others go with Lucy (which I hate, so don't do it)."
- - - - -meaning.
Aislinn is Gaelic for dream. Luciana is Italian for light. Morgenstern is Germanic for morning star and is most commonly related to the Devil, or the fallen angel Satan. She has always found her last name to be amusingly ironic, at least when it comes to her parents. Two people who aren't afraid to show their love and worship of God, who are always spouting His word, having the last name Morgenstern.
- - - - -age && status.
Eighteen years old born on February 8th -- currently a fifth former mist fledgling at the House of Night.
- - - - -habits.
Drooling with reckless abandonment when in a really deep sleep.x.Staring off into space whenever the need strikes.x.Standing on the very tips of her toes.x.Rolling her feet around in circles when sitting.x.Talking to her teddy bear.x.Breaking/Throwing things when she's angry
- - - - -in a word.
Bold.Fragile.x.Fiery.Easygoing.x.Blunt.Prevaricator.x.Recalcitrant.Compassionate.x.Confident.Insecure.x.Imaginative.Logical
} } WON'T YOU L O O K AT ME?
- - - - -in the beginning.
Curly, messy red hair, boring hazel eyes, freckles, too pale skin, skinner than anyone should be and awkwardly taller than all the guys. That was young Aislinn in a nutshell.
Never could she get her hair to stay the way she wanted it to, and often braided it into two messy pigtails with strawberry curls hanging out at random. And her complexion, no matter how much she twirled around in the sun, she just couldn't get it a single shade darker. As if her horribly pale skin was set at a default color for life. Unlike other people with hazel eyes, hers never had any emerald chips or amber highlights in the irises. They were a simple, lighter than your average brown.
As if her brightly colored hair didn't call enough attention to her, her head had always been too big for her skinny, little body. And she'd had to wear big, circular glasses. You know, the sort that automatically label a person as a geek in the shallow society of children. Due to her looks she was often nicknamed Cherry, Strawberry, Ginger, Pippi Longstocking and Raggedy Ann. Not that she ever actually liked the latter. But what could you do? Kids enjoy calling one another names and making each other feel bad.
The last odd thing about her appearance is that she looks nothing like her parents or older brother. Where he was always dark and attractive with pretty blue eyes, and her parents brunettes with slightly paler blue and brown eyes, her looks had no place in the family. She was all freckly and red with high cheekbones and a great bone structure that took some growing into. None of these things were traits that her family had and because of it her brother often joked that she'd been adopted.
- - - - -in the present.
The years have done the girl well. She's grown into her body, though still slender and just under five foot seven, her head is now a normal size for her. She's discarded the floral, girly dresses of her childhood for a more mature, fashionista approach. She loves all things vintage, heels that aren't painstakingly high (though she prefers booties, combat boots and just boots in general) and just the sort of quirky clothing and accessories that you don't see often. And hats. She loves her hats.
Now that she's been Marked she swears that she's even paler than before, although it has added a certain oomph to her normally average eyes. Oh, and thanks to her little biological alteration she's no longer in desperate need of her dorky, oversized glasses. Some kids just have all the luck.
- - - - -also notable.
Small outline of a star tattooed on the meaty part of her hand, just beneath the thumb of her left hand. Ears are not pierced, but her navel is.
} } YOU'RE G U I L T Y OF?
- - - - -hats are my thing.
It started in her childhood, when all the other kids thought it'd be fun to nickname her things like Pippi Longstocking and Raggedy Ann. Obviously the names were due to her awfully unkempt strawberry red hair. Perhaps she wouldn't have been made fun of so much had her hair been straighter or easier to tame. Or if she didn't have little brown freckles splattered across the bridge of her nose, beneath her eyes and across her cheeks and spanning over the length of her skinny arms and legs. Maybe if she'd looked more like her brother, who was born beautiful in her opinion (and according to all the other girls she'd known), then she would have been left alone. But none of that was the case. She was the oddball in her house and she had to find a way to deal with that when she was forced to mingle with her peers in school and on the playground.
So she'd taken to wearing hats.
Furry hats, trucker caps, cable-knit beanies, slouchy hats with the big fluffy pom poms on top (those were and still are her favorite). Any cute and stylish hat that could cover the hair that she was so insecure about. Feeling the soft fabric against her ears, knowing that it hid the curly, red mess on her head, made her feel safe and secure. Comforted.
Although she's older now and cares less about the opinions others have of her, she still hasn't grown out of her hat wearing habit. Even when her hair is neatly styled beneath the hat, she's unlikely to remove it. Only when she's in the privacy of her room does she let it hang freely. Eventually, someone is going to have to rip the hat off of her head for her.
- - - - -glasses and romance.
Aislinn is big on literature and art and treats books and artwork as though they are rare diamonds. Naturally she feels everyone should treat them as such and can't understand why anyone wouldn't. When it comes to books her guilty pleasure is the romance genre. Truth to be told, she's never been in an actual relationship and for years has naively based them off of what she's read in books. No, she doesn't think that some hot, muscular and likely shirtless guy with a long, thick mane of hair is going to pop up, grab hold of her and kiss her breathless. Or that a knight is going to ride up on a white stallion and save her from whatever might be trying to harm her. Actually, she prefers the early 19th century rakish rogues. Anyway, the point is that it's nice to dream and she does it often.
Although her vision is perfect now and she no longer needs glasses, she still pulls them out on occasion. Whenever she's painting or reading in her room (or rarely out in a very private public area) she'll slip on her large tortoise shell frames. Pair the big round glasses with her fuzzy, large pom pom hat and you have an adorably dorky looking Ash.
- - - - -teddy bears and fluffy blankets.
Sleeping is one of her favorite things to do. And if you're going to do it, why not do so in absolute comfort and style? Ash loves large, fluffy and warm blankets on her bed. She doesn't care so much about the sheets, she'll actually sleep on top of them. But she has to have big blankets on her complete with super soft and fluffy or silk pillows to rub her cheeks into.
Her only sleeping companion is a stuffed, oversized deep red teddy bear with button eyes, a stitched mouth and a big black bow-tie. It was a gift from her best friend one Valentine's day when they were younger and the cute thing has never left her side since. To anyone else it might be a bit embarrassing to have have such a huge toy sitting on your bed all the time. But Ash happily sits it out in clear view of anyone looking. She loves her baby Beast, named after the awesome prince from Beauty and the Beast, naturally. She fell in love with that movie the moment she saw it, and she just felt that the name suited the oversized fluff ball.
- - - - -ballet slippers.
Ash was an insanely clumsy child. Always bumping her shoulder against walls, tripping over pebbles or cracks and sometimes flat surfaces (though no one's really sure how she'd managed that), and falling ungracefully flat on her butt. It was a gift, really. For anyone who was that much of a klutz it had to be. But despite all that, she still wanted to be a ballerina. Of course, she wanted to be a princess first, but after seeing that that wouldn't pan out so well, she reluctantly settled on sparkly black ballet slippers and purple tutu.
It was one of the few times she and her mother really bonded when she was a child. Ash was taking in interest in something entirely feminine and the woman couldn't be more delighted. Long story short though? Ballet did help balance her out, loosen her up and gave her a hell of a lot of blisters and bloody toes. In the end though she stopped her lessons in her early teens. It was just something she'd wanted to do at the spur of the moment, not make a life out of it. Even still, her first pair of ballet slippers are still hanging in her closet at the HoN. A simple sentiment, but also a reminder of why she's grown into the habit of standing on the very tips of her toes when stretching and rolling her feet around, while bare or still in shoes, at random.
} } WHAT ARE YOUR S E C R E T S?
- - - - -one.
I try not to search for love because I'm afraid that I'll just be rejected and I want it to be just the way it is in the books. And then I think about it and realize that I'm asking too much of life. That I dream too much. But that doesn't stop me from knowing hoping that he's out there somewhere. I just don't want anyone to know how absolutely lost I can get in my own imaginations.
- - - - -two.
I am deathly afraid of shampoo bottles and check them vigorously before every wash. What am I checking for? Well, my darling brother, the little screwball that he was when we were kids, once poured out all of my shampoo and replaced it with a horrid pink rinse. My hair was that disgusting shade for weeks. I was called Bubblegum. And I hate the color pink. The bright side? I got him back by shaving off one of his eyebrows while he was sleeping. It's amazing that we didn't continue to be at each other's throats growing up.
- - - - -three.
I'm terrified of dark basements. I tried to not let what happened bother me, I even laugh about it when it comes up in conversation with Gabe and Jourdin. But the truth is that whenever I have to go to some dark and isolated room I always get the feeling that something is going to leap out at me out of the darkness. Chain me to the walls and leave me there to die. It's stupid, I know. But I can't help it.
- - - - -four.
I have my confident and outgoing demeanor down pack -- and for the most part, it isn't an act -- but I'm actually still a bit insecure. Not because of the stupid kids that I went to school with, not really. Kids will be kids, that's obvious. But because of my parents. There was a point in life where I loved them, trusted them and was able to go to my mother about whatever was bothering me. But for them to turn on their only daughter so quickly because they thought there was something possessing me when there wasn't? It just makes me wonder if there actually is some bad programming in my brain. If that burning sensation I felt when the cross touched my skin was only in my imagination after all. But the bigger secret is that I miss them. I want them to look at me and see me again. But I know that will never happen.
} } AND RANDOM F A C T S?
- - - - -one.
Aside from unhealthy amounts of sweet, milk chocolate, my guilty pleasure is collecting stuffed animals. Weird for a girl my age? Maybeeee. But ask me if I care? They're so friggen cute, what, with their little button noses and soft fluffy bodies. However, if you look in my room at the House of Night you'll only see Beast. All of the others are safely at home back in my old room.
- - - - -two.
I'm a Vegetarian for the most part. So I'll never know the joys of a steak or a whopper from Burger King (unless someone actually gets me to try these things somewhere down the line, but I doubt it). And yet the site of shrimps and lobster makes me queasy -- I mean come on! They're literally the seas giant ass roaches. I don't eat roaches or roach look-a-likes.
- - - - -three.
My brother would say "Go model or be an actor, or be a playwright -- you like literature, don't you?". But even being a fledgling my only true dream is to be a child psychiatrist. I'd love to help out the lives of those children who have to go through so much at young ages. Bullying, abuse, death, rape, their parents trying to crucify them... Okay, that last one was personal and exaggerated, but you get my point. No more children with fucked up lives, I say.
- - - - -four.
I've been known to hold grudges. At least for a little while, the waiting period for me to stop being mad at a person varies depending upon their offense. When I do get upset I tend to throw things (preferably someone else's things, I'd really rather not break my things), stomp around and curse a lot. It helps to release the excess energy building up from being pissed so that I can relax and think clearly afterwards. Anger management, says you. Give me something to aim at, says I.
} } AND WHO ARE T H E Y?
- - - - -eileen && alexander morgenstern.
These are her parents. Once upon a time Ash and her parents had a decent enough relationship, but that was before she began to develop a mind of her own. They are your average overly religious church going folk. So naturally the moment Ash began thinking for herself and entered the rebellious stage of her teenage years (which was basically her just demanding more freedom and for them to "stop watching me like such fucking vultures because I'm not running out and getting pregnant") they tried dragging her to church more often hoping that hearing the words of God from their church's preacher would drive the rebellion out of her. The only problem was that save for being utterly enamored with the idea of angels, Ash wasn't big on God or the bible. It didn't mean anything to her. So the three began drifting further and further apart until the point that any conversations she did have with them always turned into a game of Who Can Shout the Loudest? to get their point across. A game she quickly tired of and stopped uttering anything beyond pleasantries to them unless she absolutely had to.
She hasn't spoken to them since first being Marked, because, well who would want to talk to parents who think their only daughter is possessed and are determined to drive the demon out of her by trying to burn her with crosses and holy water? Certainly not her. They haven't attempted to go to any of the Parent's Day events that the HoN holds and she couldn't give less a damn if she tried to. At least, that's what she always says.
- - - - -gabriel morgenstern.
Gabe is Ash's twenty year old human brother and her best friend. He always had the good looks in the family (at least that's the way she felt) and was popular amongst his peers. Because she looks so different from his dark hair and eyes people often confused the two as boyfriend and girlfriend whenever they saw his arm across her shoulders, or her hugging him for the hell of it. They couldn't have been more off base.
As children Ash harbored a tiny amount of hatred for her brother. Like any sibling he was always picking on her, and lying to her about her being adopted. One time his story was that their parents wanted a baby girl but had lost the Stork's phone number so they went to an orphanage instead. Another time he claimed that she was found on the church steps in a hobo style cardboard box with the words PLEASE TAKE THIS in a crude handwriting along the front of it. Was it not enough that he looked good and was so charismatic? Did he have to torture her too?
Well, that hate turned into love as they grew older. He became the brother that would threaten to ruff up other children for her if they bothered her, the brother who was genuinely happy to take her with him whenever he went somewhere. Until she started crushing on his friends though, he was prepared to kick their asses although she was the one with the little girl crush. But she loves her brother, even if he is a bit of a cock blocker (or vajay jay blocker in this case, I suppose).
The night her father tried to exorcise the imaginary demon possessing her, Gabe had gotten home late and heard all of the commotion in the basement. He saved her from their idiotic parents and drove like a bat out of Hell to the HoN. There was a lot of road rage directed at him that night. Gabriel has been visiting her at the school every chance he gets ever since, and he's the one who always shows up on Parent's Day with some kind of goodie for his awkward baby sister.
- - - - -jourdin ames.
Jourdin is Gabriel's best friend, and he's also a human. In the beginning he was the older friend that was always over at the house with Gabe, so naturally he became Ash's first crush. It pissed her brother off to no end and he'd always said that he'd kill Jourdin if he even entertained the thought for a second. He would just laugh it off good-naturedly though and playfully tease her about the crush. Ash had been mortified that Gabe had the balls to actually tell his friend about her crush on him, not knowing that it was painfully obvious how she felt. Though it hadn't completely topped the time she came home still in her leotard and tutu to find him lounging in their living room. It may have been the reddest her cheeks had ever gotten thus far. Luckily, it was just a silly little girl crush and she eventually grew out of it the more and more that she saw him dating various girls.
The two of them became fast friends once her crush went away, though his teasing of her never did end. Most of the time he'll tag along on her brother's visits to the HoN (whether to see her or "score hot vamp babes" she isn't sure sometimes -- probably both). Gabriel, Jourdin and her are the Three Amigos, the Three Musketeers... Hell, they're the Fellowship, they’re Harry, Ron and Hermione minus the awesome wizarding magic.
} } WHO LIVES IN THE P A S T?
- - - - -en dehors, faster.
It was her first actual, live performance. Her first performance in front of a crowd of people. A crowd compiled of the eager faces of the other children's parents, all strangers to her. Oh, God it was enough to make her double over back stage vomiting up what little courage she had left. She wondered how her face looked, her freckles likely stood out in stark contrast against her deathly pale skin. A scraggly strawberry red bun was pinned atop her head. No matter how many amount of pins the hairstylist had stuck into her hair in particular, they couldn't keep her defiant, curly strands in place. Already plenty had bounced back out of the once neat bun and were dangling carelessly around her heart-shaped face and the nape of her neck.
Nine year old Aislinn peeked out from behind the stage, past all of the young ballerinas currently on stage, in between the whimsical setting and out at the crowd. It took a moment of searching, but amongst the sea of alien features she spotted those shining faces that she'd recognize anywhere. At least, her parents looked excited (her mother especially) -- Gabriel and Jourdinn merely looked uninterested but were clearly looking for ways to cause trouble in their row. Like by messing with the toupee of the man seated in front of them. She scowled at the idiocy and utter rudeness of little boys and instead of looking at her family again, she watched the girls on the stage. It was nearly her scene in the second act. After working her way up from a snowflake, to Maggie the Cat and finally somehow managing to snag the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy, well, Ash just saw no room for failure. Even if this was just a little kid's play. She took her ballet seriously. She had to be ready, she had to be prepared to flitter out onto the stage. She had to make sure she didn't miss her cue. And she had to make sure to push down this queasiness in the pit of her stomach before she vomited all over the Nutcracker. Please, please, don't fail, Ash. You're a failure at everything else in life. Please, don't fail at this.
And then she was on.
The gentle music of the piano reached her ears, other ballerinas danced off of the stage. "Go!" Her instructor whispered frantically in her ear, giving her the ability to finally move her feet. Swallowing hard around the dryness in her throat she raised her pale arms slowly above her head, lifted herself to a ballerina's full height and then she was sprinting from the back, onto the stage and center front.
Aislinn had never felt so free or as light as she did then, like a feather gliding across the stage. A graceful angel pulling off each dip of her body, each twirl of a leg and simultaneous lifting of her toes. Her arms moved as liquid through the air, they felt like wings helping to lift her into each jump and touch the floor with the tips of her toes to the point that it felt like she wasn't touching the floor at all. Was this what it had felt like for all of the other ballerinas? Or was she simply proud of herself in that moment for pulling it off so perfectly, so gracefully. Was she happy to be in the spotlight for once without being teased about the way she looked? Or was she simply happy because she'd felt a sense of rightness?
Maybe it was all of that combined. But one thing was certain; it wasn't the bouquets, the round of applause or the encouraging words from her peers that she remembered most about the night. It was the way she felt, care free and giddy for quite possibly the first time in her brief nine years of life.
- - - - -not a little girl anymore.
Today was the day.
The day that Jourdin would learn of a certain someone's affections for him -- or so Aislinn kept on telling herself. How many times had she gone over this in the bathroom mirror, day after day, whispering and reciting what she knew she would say to the boy in question. Meanwhile Gabriel would be banging on the bathroom door as if it would have killed him to go and use their parent's bathroom. And she would always shout at him that she'd be out in a second. But rehearsals were over and done with and it was time for the real thing. Yeah. The real thing. The very real confrontation with the object of her first love interest, her first crush. There wasn't any more time to see what mirror Ash had to say to her about the situation, it was time to act.
Deep and painfully slow intakes of breath weren't helping as they usually might have in this case. If anything all the slow breathing did was make her even more nervous. But she couldn't act like a silly little girl right now, not anymore. She had to take her love life into her hands, she had to take something n her life into her own hands for once. Did it matter that just thinking about him started up a tornado of butterflies in her stomach? That she couldn't help the dreamy, goofy smile that threatened to split her face in half whenever she thought about just how blue his eyes were and the effect that they had on her? The way she blushed unwillingly whenever she thought about the way his lips looked when he smiled or pouted teasingly at her. Was it her fault that his hair felt like the finest China silk when it curled around her finger? No. God damn it, no it wasn't her fault. It was his. He should use cheaper shampoo and wear shades while in the house. And those sinfully delicious lips of his... UGH.
And she was right back to the butterflies and the nervous blush over her pale, freckled cheeks. Great. The moment she finally reached the living room and she probably looked like a steamed beet. That was beyond unattractive.
"YO! Anya," Gabriel called out to her from his seat on the couch, always preferring to call her the nickname of Anastasia since they were both equally skinny little brats in his opinion. "What took you so long? Come have a seat, silly. We were just about to -- woah, what's with your face?"
She wanted to strangle him. She briefly wondered if that was what he was asking about. Was her plot to smother him in his sleep written so plainly on her face? Or... Oh, no. She was turning redder. She could feel it. "I... Be right back!" she squeaked in an unattractive pitch before turning on her heel and hightailing it back around the corner to the bathroom. She all but slammed the door shut behind her and ran to the sink. Standing in front of the mirror she bit down harshly on her bottom lip, tugging on it with her teeth as she surveyed her reflection. Just as she thought: flushed, freckled and her hair looked as though it'd been hit by a particularly relentless wave of humidity. Ugh. Part of her wanted to run upstairs to her bedroom and never show her face again while the other part was still determined to accomplish what she'd set out to. She figured the latter was the more mature, adult choice. And so, after tidying up her curls as best she could, she took another uselessly slow breath and heading toward the door and opened it.
And there stood Gabriel, the last person she wanted to see right now. Automatically she furrowed her brows at him, preparing for whatever sarcastic little remark he was bound to make. Instead he said something that shocked her and made her notice just how pissed he looked. "What did he do to you? Did he say something? Tell me what the hells going on or I swear I'll go back in there and kick his ass, Aislinn." Aislinn. He only used her full first name when he was upset, whether with her or someone/something else she could never be sure until the conversation got going.
"What? Nothing! Why, did he say something to you?" It took about a minute for the anger to fade from his expression, then be replaced rapidly by puzzlement followed by surprise then understanding as a sly smile replaced the previous angry frown. Only too late did she realize that she'd been looking too hopeful of his response. "Don't look at me like that, Gabe." She muttered, pushing past him. "Like you know what's going on in my head."
Gabriel merely grinned more and followed behind her like a puppy, wagging its tail at the prospect of a new toy or game. "That would be remarkable if I, or anyone else for that matter, could ever tell what's going on inside that redhead of yours, sis. Buuuut," he began, purposely dragging the word on. During the pause he wordlessly slipped in front of her and put his hand against the wall to block her path. "What I do know is that you're crazier than I thought, if you think I'm going to allow you to like this guy."
Ash couldn't believe what she was hearing? Allow her? This guy? Who did he think he was? "This guy?? Really, now Gabe. Jourdin has been friends with us for years now. And -- wait. Where do you get off trying to tell me what to do?! I'm old enough to make my own choices, I think. Live my own life. I should have that right. Don't think for a second that just because you're my brother that you can make the rules. That isn't how it works."
"HAH. I knew it. It is Jourdin. Are you crazy? He's too old for you." That was what any brother usually told their baby sisters when she was interested in a guy, Ash was certain. But had the boy forgotten that Jourdin was only a year older than her? Same age as he was? "And anyway, I can tell you to do whatever I damn well please when it comes to things like this. I won't allow it. Not him. Not you. Just...no. Get it out of your head."
"I'm not a little girl anymore, Gabriel!! You can't just go around cockblocking whenever you feel to by some imaginary divine right that you've given yourself. I can date whoever I damn well please. And I --" She paused abruptly. When had she gotten so bold? Sure, she always had sibling spats with her brother, but all this talk about dating whoever she wanted? Just a few minutes ago she couldn't even gather up the guts to even tell Jourdin how she felt.
Before her brother could retaliate in her moment of confusion, a sudden and purposeful cough broke the heated silence. Both brother and sister looked up in unison to see Jourdin standing in the hallway, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I-- uh. Just wanted to tell you two that we should head out if we're going to catch that movie." He glanced past Gabe at Ash and mistook her look of utter horror for one of confusion. "This clown did tell you that we're going to the movies, didn't he?" He questioned, sounding completely unsure of what the hell was happening. "And not sound like an eavesdropper or anything, but I'm pretty sure I heard the words 'cockblocking bastard'," he said, knowing good and well that the latter of the words hadn't been mentioned at all. "If I were you Gabe, I'd stop being an asshat and let the girl date whoever she wants. As long as I meet him first -- gotta make sure he's good material for our little Ash."
Oh. Dear. God.
Aislinn didn't know whether to be excited that he'd taken her side without knowing the full story, or if she should feel beyond embarrassed that he'd unknowingly popped up in the middle of a conversation about him and called her exactly what she was claiming not to be. Little Ash. Seems like she was leaning towards embarrassment. "I...have to go and..." she paused, searching for some excuse to run away. "Feed the cat."
They didn't have a cat.
- - - - -hell hath no fury.
"Are you actually going to allow this bullshit? Are you seriously going to let this happen? Mom? MOM?!
If she could shoot poison from her eyes, her mother would have died from the acidic venom with which she glared at her from behind the clear, round frames of her red tortoise shell glasses. Hell, she was pissed. Pissed and extremely sick. A flu at this time of the year was unseasonable to say the least, but that didn't stop her from feeling the usual symptoms of it. The on and off chills, the urges to wrap herself in a zillion blankets and them rip them off of her as though they were burning her skin, the queasiness and naturally the lovely bit about coughing up her organs into the toilet bowl. Her cheeks were flushed, hazel eyes teary and puffy, and her head was pounding. Here she was covering her mouth with Kleenex so as not to spread her vile germs, and what was her mother doing? Well, she certainly wasn't listening to her that's for sure. Not one bloody bit.
"Aislinn, sweetie, listen." Hah. Funny that her mother would make such a request when she couldn't even take the same one herself. "Your father and I are merely worried about you. He just wants to perform one simple, little exorcist." How in the Hell could she possibly sound so calm about this when Ash could practically see the unnecessary hysteria building in her eyes? Perhaps she felt that she'd already cried too many hysteric tears in front of her daughter, son and her friend. How many times had she pleaded with her daughter to fix herself? What the hell did that even mean?
"Honestly, mom. What century do you two think we're in? In what world will an exorcism stop what's happened to me? It won't turn back the clock, and it won't change anything. Y-you're both killing me every second just by having this stupid conversation instead of doing your fucking job as parents!" Now, Ash normally tried to control her temper and her tongue. But with her parents it was just so easy to flip out on them because they always did something entirely ridiculous. Like now. Instead of getting her the help she needed, taking her to where she had to go, they were practically holding her hostage in the basement. She was amazed they hadn't chained her to a wall yet out of fear that she'd go vamp and start flying around the room speaking in some foreign tongue or something.
Her father, who had been unusually silent for the first time in his life possibly, was busy shuffling around the dimly lit basement. He'd gathered candles and set them around his daughter in a circle on the floor. He had several different types of crosses, holy water, a Bible and various other holy objects. The man wasn't an exorcist, he was simply a God fearing, church going moron who thought that if he had enough blessed objects that he could drive out whatever nonexistent demon was haunting his child. "The descent into Hell is easy, Aislinn, and you, my child, are on a fast path to the Devil if you refuse our help, our love. Let God's light shine on you."
Of course, he'd finally spoken and it was more biblical bullshit.
"Don't quote Virgil at me, dad," she practically growled in exasperation. She felt like she was going to double over in a fit of coughs at any moment. She didn't have time for this. "I'm not falling into any hellish Inferno. You're both just crazy. This Mark doesn't label me as a demon and you should understand that by now. Even if it's a little...different than usual." Even she didn't understand why her Mark wasn't the usual crescent moon, but instead a dark circle right at the center of her forehead. It was weird, but it didn't make her a demon. "This doesn't negate any connection that I might have to -- " Ash broke off, coughing violently. She leaned over, pressing her forehead against the nearest wall. It was cool against her hot, damp and aching head. It relaxed her, helped her to think through the phlegm filled coughing. But before she could speak again she heard her father. More nonsense.
"You see?!" He bellowed, casting a sweeping gaze from his daughter to his wife. Not only did he have the necessary props, but he was all dressed up in robes of a deep ruby, the same color as the blood that Ash was sure she saw specks of on the hand that she'd coughed into. The man was all theatrics, way too dramatic for Ash's tastes. "The child can't even speak His name, she cokes on it as one possessed." He clutched one particularly large cross in his left hand and approached her. She felt his hand wrap around her wrist and yank her from the comfort of her wall. Raising the cross holding hand he stared into her eyes, still grasping her wrist, trapping her there as a handcuff might a prisoner. "I promise to burn the demon out of you before it can continue to consume you from the inside out. It isn't us killing you, it's that demon. And I will drive the bastard out!"
The starburst of pain that split down the center of her forehead the moment the hot silver of the cross touched her skin was merely coincidence. At least that was what she told herself then, and what she continued to tell herself whenever she thought back on that awful night.
- - - - -
"EARTH to Ashes. You alive in there, Morgenstern? Knock knock. Come on. You're drooling all over the place."
That slapped an immediate and rude awareness into her. Automatically and out of habit her hand flew up to her mouth, where she wiped quickly with the back of her hand and met dry skin. No dripping moistness, no warm, stuck together or dried drool matted to her chin. "Liar." She glared accusingly at her closest friend who sat beside her quietly chuckling brother.
"What was it this time, my so easily distracted little sister?" Aislinn's brother questioned with a smirk. She already knew what he was thinking, and what he'd probably joked about while she was completely out of it. Why hadn't she ever gotten her little mind drifting issue checked out by a psychiatrist. The answer? Because daydreaming was normal. Everyone did it. Maybe not as often and maybe they didn't get as completely engrossed as she did... But others did do it too.
Instead of ignoring him as she considered doing, she leaned against the table and looked over at her friend and then her brother, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. No matter what, these were the only two people in the world who she could never stay annoyed with. "Well... To be honest, I was thinking back on, you know, that night." Of course they would both know what night she was speaking of, she shared everything with them. "And I'll never forget the way you threw open the door, came flying down the stairs and nearly knocked Alexander out. You were honestly my knight in shining armor. A moment longer with those two and they may have actually started tossing vials of holy water at me and reading scriptures." She and her two best friends shuddered in unison at the thought. Then they all shared a look and broke into a bout of laughter.
Sure, it may not have been so funny when it was happening, but now that the ordeal was in the past, Aislinn found it hilarious. And it was always nice to let her brother and their friend drag her off of school grounds just to sit in Starbucks and catch up on things, reminisce and just enjoy each other's company. It was times like this that always made her feel like she was human again, as if there wasn't concealer covering up the Mark decorating her forehead. As though nothing had changed. And actually, if she was being honest with herself, despite her personally changing, nothing between the three had changed at all. The knowledge that there was a single constant thing in her life kept her happy, even while away from it.
{{>_> Omg. I am so sorry about the length. I don't know when to shut the hell up, but you guys know that. <3}}
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