Post by TJ on Jan 4, 2008 11:44:46 GMT -5
OOC: I don’t know where to post things that happen in your spirit, so this will be posted where TJ is in his made-up world. This is a dream of his that he is subconsciously fabricating, so no one else should post here. This is just to explain what Teej is going through right now.
Light flickered into the deep brown eyes of the Ravenclaw, his heavy eyelids slowly opening. Hues of color and brightness streamed into his vision as he shuddered softly, not knowing what was happening. Blinking his eyes rapidly as he tried to get accustomed to his surroundings, the boy slowly pulled himself up. His skin was clammy and damp, pressed firmly against the hard flooring of the place he lay in. His shirt was drenched in humid sweat, his eyebrows furrowing into an expression of utter obliviousness. Panting for breath as he rubbed his eyes, whilst pushing a loose strand of long brown hair out of his face, the boy’s eyes grew accustomed to the light and the sudden colors.
It was a dim-lit room, the only lighting coming from a windowsill outside the small room. There was a bed with neat white sheets on it to the north of the room, near the sill, and a desk with a pen and paper on it to the southeast corner. A small door, barely enough for Teej to fit through, sat on the west end of the confinement, and a large, rustic bookshelf sat on the east end. A painting of numerous faces sat on the south wall, the portrait seeming so realistic. The propped-up teen pushed a fistful of hair back as he stared towards the painting. The images were still blurry to him, but the faces seemed so familiar… it was a recognition, but a very faint one. He could not remember their names or how he knew them, but he knew he had met all of them. His eyes caroused over different faces, until he spotted a tiny little boy that looked like a miniature figure of him.
Then it all came back.
Screaming in horror as he jumped back, scattering over the floor, he started to scream, tears starting to drip down his bronzed cheeks. His breathing grew louder, and his screams were now bawls of frustration, shock, and depressing despair. Curling up into a ball, the boy began to openly weep, rocking back and forth. His long chocolate hair swung over his face wildly as tears and hair met, his hair growing damper by the second. The hairs on his back prickled to the point, his eyes widened as he let go of his tight embrace to back away from the painting. Death-wish thoughts ran through his head. For it was a picture of his younger brother, Travis Nightshadow.
The painting was a vivid picture of his younger brother. The boy was a little pudgy, and had bright brown eyes, the exact replica of TJ’s. His hair was short and combed, and he wore a dark, small tuxedo with a bright red bow. A cute pair of teeth was emerging from his mouth, and his smile was perfectly adorable. In the picture were his family and friends, lined up in different patterns to make a portrait. And they all stood smiling, staring out into the room. Memories of the brother that had died had brought Teej to the edge. He was already fragile in his heart, and this was making it worse. Sobbing uncontrollably as each tear ran down his tanned face, the boy just wanted to die. Let me die! his heart screamed in agony, I can’t take it anymore! Please, let me go away! If there is a God, then cease my agony! Why aren’t you answering?!? I- The open weeping continued. Grief, pain, and blindness shrouded the teen’s soul, as inner demons tore away every happy component in his shattered core. Compassion, joy, gentleness, carefree spirit, loyalty were all stripped away like that. He felt utterly empty; void. The sobbing of loss seemed to go on for hours, the single thought of his younger brother imprinted in his mind as a slave’s mark would be to a slave.
“Cease the crying,” a voice called out, a familiar one at that. TJ was still weeping, but started to wipe the tears from his eyes. He was trying so hard to be brave, so hard to face up to his fears and repair his broken soul. “Torrid, please stop crying,” the voice called out again, more gently. The Ravenclaw student was now panting, trying to regain his lost equanimity, his tears stained with wet tears. Wiping the orbs of depression away from his damp face, the boy sucked in a deep breath trying to calm himself. The boy looked up the voice of his caller. It was Morgan. She looked different from when TJ had last seen her, defiantly changes. She was paler, with almost pure white hair and ivory skin. Her ruby eyes flashed brightly, and she seemed to be thinner and taller. She wore a simple white nightgown, modest and humble, and her fingers seemed to be slightly longer and more spidery. “Morgan?”
Light flickered into the deep brown eyes of the Ravenclaw, his heavy eyelids slowly opening. Hues of color and brightness streamed into his vision as he shuddered softly, not knowing what was happening. Blinking his eyes rapidly as he tried to get accustomed to his surroundings, the boy slowly pulled himself up. His skin was clammy and damp, pressed firmly against the hard flooring of the place he lay in. His shirt was drenched in humid sweat, his eyebrows furrowing into an expression of utter obliviousness. Panting for breath as he rubbed his eyes, whilst pushing a loose strand of long brown hair out of his face, the boy’s eyes grew accustomed to the light and the sudden colors.
It was a dim-lit room, the only lighting coming from a windowsill outside the small room. There was a bed with neat white sheets on it to the north of the room, near the sill, and a desk with a pen and paper on it to the southeast corner. A small door, barely enough for Teej to fit through, sat on the west end of the confinement, and a large, rustic bookshelf sat on the east end. A painting of numerous faces sat on the south wall, the portrait seeming so realistic. The propped-up teen pushed a fistful of hair back as he stared towards the painting. The images were still blurry to him, but the faces seemed so familiar… it was a recognition, but a very faint one. He could not remember their names or how he knew them, but he knew he had met all of them. His eyes caroused over different faces, until he spotted a tiny little boy that looked like a miniature figure of him.
Then it all came back.
Screaming in horror as he jumped back, scattering over the floor, he started to scream, tears starting to drip down his bronzed cheeks. His breathing grew louder, and his screams were now bawls of frustration, shock, and depressing despair. Curling up into a ball, the boy began to openly weep, rocking back and forth. His long chocolate hair swung over his face wildly as tears and hair met, his hair growing damper by the second. The hairs on his back prickled to the point, his eyes widened as he let go of his tight embrace to back away from the painting. Death-wish thoughts ran through his head. For it was a picture of his younger brother, Travis Nightshadow.
The painting was a vivid picture of his younger brother. The boy was a little pudgy, and had bright brown eyes, the exact replica of TJ’s. His hair was short and combed, and he wore a dark, small tuxedo with a bright red bow. A cute pair of teeth was emerging from his mouth, and his smile was perfectly adorable. In the picture were his family and friends, lined up in different patterns to make a portrait. And they all stood smiling, staring out into the room. Memories of the brother that had died had brought Teej to the edge. He was already fragile in his heart, and this was making it worse. Sobbing uncontrollably as each tear ran down his tanned face, the boy just wanted to die. Let me die! his heart screamed in agony, I can’t take it anymore! Please, let me go away! If there is a God, then cease my agony! Why aren’t you answering?!? I- The open weeping continued. Grief, pain, and blindness shrouded the teen’s soul, as inner demons tore away every happy component in his shattered core. Compassion, joy, gentleness, carefree spirit, loyalty were all stripped away like that. He felt utterly empty; void. The sobbing of loss seemed to go on for hours, the single thought of his younger brother imprinted in his mind as a slave’s mark would be to a slave.
“Cease the crying,” a voice called out, a familiar one at that. TJ was still weeping, but started to wipe the tears from his eyes. He was trying so hard to be brave, so hard to face up to his fears and repair his broken soul. “Torrid, please stop crying,” the voice called out again, more gently. The Ravenclaw student was now panting, trying to regain his lost equanimity, his tears stained with wet tears. Wiping the orbs of depression away from his damp face, the boy sucked in a deep breath trying to calm himself. The boy looked up the voice of his caller. It was Morgan. She looked different from when TJ had last seen her, defiantly changes. She was paler, with almost pure white hair and ivory skin. Her ruby eyes flashed brightly, and she seemed to be thinner and taller. She wore a simple white nightgown, modest and humble, and her fingers seemed to be slightly longer and more spidery. “Morgan?”