Post by -->Narcissus Ramsey<-- on Jun 10, 2008 0:01:46 GMT -5
[Outside, in the night, I will be one with the stars.]
His soundless footsteps. The windblown, spiked, and snowy hair. The glare thrown off of the shades bouncing on the tower walls as he climbed. His outlandish appearence. All added together to make the strange person that was Narcissus Ramsey. He was a sinner, a lover, a player. But the thing that stands out most about dear Mr. Ramsey is his ideas. Never underestimate what cannot be understood in the first place.
[I'm the angel, fallen angel, racing up the stairs.]
Narcissus reached the top of tower with barely a wheeze in his breath. He fingered the silver ring on the left side, the right of his lip with a small smile as he wrenched open the owlry door. The silence before had only been broken by the murmurs of a crowd of students. From his previous trips up into the towering heights of Delusion, he knew there was a common room up here. Pity that they had to walk so far. At least they were fit. His steps were a stalking cat's, smooth and fluid, as well as predatory. The owls shifted as they caught sight of him, but he ignored them. He walked across the feather-strewn room to the far side, where a window opened into the unknown. He set white hands on the sill, deftly avoiding any leavings that the birds may have left. The wide expanse of the academy's grounds met his eyes, but he didn't look at them. Instead they found the clouds, high at this time of day, illuminated by the sun. The ever hateful sun.
[That star's a hell of a lot more than a porch light.]
The arched window sheltered the teenager from the sun, for which he was grateful. But his hands clenched into tight fists. The white in his knuckles was undistinguishable from the rest of his skin. He took in a deep breath through his nose, his pale lips pressed into a thin line. It was the sun that was his enemy, the scourge of the earth, with its burning fingers that ripped his fragile skin away every time and took away his sanity. With a wry look on his face, he let his hand reach out into the light, let it play in the open air, as the force of the sun, even now, toyed with it, heating it quickly. Narcissus pulled it back in with a scowl. Every time. It was as though he expected something different, though he did not. It was the thrill he got from the experience. Rather than cutting himself, as some depraved muggle teenagers did, he let himself feel the kiss of the sun.
[I've sat out on the sidelines far too long.]
Narcissus pulled his thin form back into the main room. Finding a ledge with his back to the windows, he pulled out an immaculate piece of parchment from his jeans' pocket and a black, sharp quill. With a steady hand, he began writing in his familiar, sharp scrawl, penning a quick update to his uncle, ever curious, in America. The mad uncle, as he was known in the family, who had taken Narcissus in during the hols. Fortunately, he allowed it, as well as letting Ciss do whatever he wished to do. All the ghostly teen had to do was give him updates, let him 'relive' his own days within Persistance. Whatever floated his boat. He signed the scrap with a flourish and chose one of the school's owls, a handsome Grey Grey with the large powerful wings neccesary for the ocean flight. He felt a bit sorry for it. It was a long way. But he couldn't help it. Narcissus wanted to stay away from his pureblooded maniac family, and this was the only way.
Narcissus carried the large owl easily on his muscular arm, and carried him to the window. The sun was beginning to fall now, casting shadows across the lawn. He stroked the owl slowly for a moment, wishing he had the same ability as the owl did. To fly, and be free. But again, they were bound as he was. To the night, where the light of day didn't hurt their eyes. Abruptly, he sent the owl off, wishing it luck silently, and watched as it sailed away on its broad wings. It blended in almost immediately into the shadows, and Narcissus couldn't see it anymore. The corrective lenses in his shaded glasses didn't always help him. He leaned onto the sill again, relaxing against the cold stone, wincing slightly as each piece of his skin hit the chilly surface. He wished he were wearing more than his black bodyarmor shirt and jeans. The air would be brisk as the night fell farther. But Narcissus reveled in the night. He would be free.
[Would the wind be at my back? Could I get you off my mind?]
His soundless footsteps. The windblown, spiked, and snowy hair. The glare thrown off of the shades bouncing on the tower walls as he climbed. His outlandish appearence. All added together to make the strange person that was Narcissus Ramsey. He was a sinner, a lover, a player. But the thing that stands out most about dear Mr. Ramsey is his ideas. Never underestimate what cannot be understood in the first place.
[I'm the angel, fallen angel, racing up the stairs.]
Narcissus reached the top of tower with barely a wheeze in his breath. He fingered the silver ring on the left side, the right of his lip with a small smile as he wrenched open the owlry door. The silence before had only been broken by the murmurs of a crowd of students. From his previous trips up into the towering heights of Delusion, he knew there was a common room up here. Pity that they had to walk so far. At least they were fit. His steps were a stalking cat's, smooth and fluid, as well as predatory. The owls shifted as they caught sight of him, but he ignored them. He walked across the feather-strewn room to the far side, where a window opened into the unknown. He set white hands on the sill, deftly avoiding any leavings that the birds may have left. The wide expanse of the academy's grounds met his eyes, but he didn't look at them. Instead they found the clouds, high at this time of day, illuminated by the sun. The ever hateful sun.
[That star's a hell of a lot more than a porch light.]
The arched window sheltered the teenager from the sun, for which he was grateful. But his hands clenched into tight fists. The white in his knuckles was undistinguishable from the rest of his skin. He took in a deep breath through his nose, his pale lips pressed into a thin line. It was the sun that was his enemy, the scourge of the earth, with its burning fingers that ripped his fragile skin away every time and took away his sanity. With a wry look on his face, he let his hand reach out into the light, let it play in the open air, as the force of the sun, even now, toyed with it, heating it quickly. Narcissus pulled it back in with a scowl. Every time. It was as though he expected something different, though he did not. It was the thrill he got from the experience. Rather than cutting himself, as some depraved muggle teenagers did, he let himself feel the kiss of the sun.
[I've sat out on the sidelines far too long.]
Narcissus pulled his thin form back into the main room. Finding a ledge with his back to the windows, he pulled out an immaculate piece of parchment from his jeans' pocket and a black, sharp quill. With a steady hand, he began writing in his familiar, sharp scrawl, penning a quick update to his uncle, ever curious, in America. The mad uncle, as he was known in the family, who had taken Narcissus in during the hols. Fortunately, he allowed it, as well as letting Ciss do whatever he wished to do. All the ghostly teen had to do was give him updates, let him 'relive' his own days within Persistance. Whatever floated his boat. He signed the scrap with a flourish and chose one of the school's owls, a handsome Grey Grey with the large powerful wings neccesary for the ocean flight. He felt a bit sorry for it. It was a long way. But he couldn't help it. Narcissus wanted to stay away from his pureblooded maniac family, and this was the only way.
Narcissus carried the large owl easily on his muscular arm, and carried him to the window. The sun was beginning to fall now, casting shadows across the lawn. He stroked the owl slowly for a moment, wishing he had the same ability as the owl did. To fly, and be free. But again, they were bound as he was. To the night, where the light of day didn't hurt their eyes. Abruptly, he sent the owl off, wishing it luck silently, and watched as it sailed away on its broad wings. It blended in almost immediately into the shadows, and Narcissus couldn't see it anymore. The corrective lenses in his shaded glasses didn't always help him. He leaned onto the sill again, relaxing against the cold stone, wincing slightly as each piece of his skin hit the chilly surface. He wished he were wearing more than his black bodyarmor shirt and jeans. The air would be brisk as the night fell farther. But Narcissus reveled in the night. He would be free.
[Would the wind be at my back? Could I get you off my mind?]
[ooc;;] 850 words. I don't know what I thought of that. First post with Cissy. =] RESERVED FOR THE QUEEN OF SHEBA [otherwise known as stargem].
