[xelios] ashes to ashes, dust to dust

[Isabella Jillian Avadore]

Joan rested her shaven head back against the wood, staring up at the blue sky, mouth open, eyes staring as she held in the screams that threatened to escape at any moment. The pain was unbearable, but as she whispered the Our Father, she knew it had to be tolerated until it killed her at last. Nothing offered relief, the prayer a mere distraction, a mere pleading to God for the power to not scream, to retain composure as the chains that bound her glowed red and molded it skin, skin that burned away. If she had feet anymore, she couldn't feel them, nor see them if she chanced a look down. Indeed, she only felt from the knees up - anything below that was ravaged beyond what nerves could portray...what few nerves hadn't been burned away. Her hands, chained behind her back, were locked around burning wood, a crude cross someone had give her.

And so she had suffered until the flames reached her neck. And now here she was, 580 years later, sitting on some rocks across the lake from the bonfire that was at it's shores. Even from here, the pyre fire burned bright. She could see the silhouettes of people, having fun, and distantly hear the music, but she wanted nothing to do with it. Yet, morbid curiosity had dragged her to the bonfire, just to see the force that had killed her so long ago. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms around her knees and head resting atop them, brown eyes - eyes that were nearly identical to her past ones - wide and pale as a ghost, but she was somewhat peaceful, as she pondered just about everything there was for her to ponder as she stared at the dancing flame, one she could practically feel on her skin all over again, the subject of her greatest fears and nightmares.

People passed her by, and some, like Oliver and Talia, asked of she was alright, and she told them all to go away - her reaction was no different for the next one to approach her. She looked up briefly, and then back across the lake. "Please go away, Xelios." She said quietly. "I'm fine."

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words| 400
tagged| Xelios / Dee
notes| You know you're writing with Isa when the thread title is from the Bible.

[xelios]

FIRE IT UP, FIRE IT UP, IF YOU
need some conversation bring the magazine

[/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • ISABELLA AVADORE ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

Xelios couldn’t possible imagine how terrifying this must be for Isa. As he stared out at the fire that burned bright enough to irritate his eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder how Isa was managing not to have a panic attack. He had always known Isa to be strong, but to him this showed just how much he had underestimated her. Xelios wished he knew what she was thinking, what was going on in that pretty little head of hers. Her thoughts, her fears, her attempts at calming herself down. He walked over and sat down beside her in silence, refusing to accept her words. He wasn’t simply going to leave her there. “There is a blazing inferno in front of you, you are not “fine”,”

[/color] he reminded her as he crossed his legs Indian style. He fell silent, watching the flame while keeping a close eye on her in his peripheral vision. His hands folded neatly in his lap and his toes curled in the sandals he had on. He wasn’t quite sure why he had come anyways. Probably because it reminded him of the select few good times he had while on the streets. When it started getting colder him and a bunch of the other kids would find a metal garbage can and set up a fire in there and just talk all night long.
[/justify] [/blockquote]words: 228
lyrics: modest mouse, fire it up
notes: - - -[/blockquote]

[Isabella Jillian Avadore]

The fire, across a whole freaking lake or not, was terrifying her. But she refused to cry. She didn't want to keep being such a baby around people. Well, most people didn't see it. But those closest to her had all had her break down on them once and that was unfair. She needed to grow up, get stronger. She needed to set aside some childish fears - what sort of general was she, would she have been, if she had all these fears in a past life? Not a great one. She'd had moments of terror, yes, but she didn't end up crying into someone's shirt. Enough was enough. There was plenty to ponder, but she steeled herself against tears, and kept her face blank, except for her eyes, and going pale, something she could not control.

Isabella was sure she was going to sit on her own and ponder life until she got over this, and it was her intention, so of course she told Xelios to go away...and of course, he did not. He even had something to say about her being fine. Which, in most other circumstances, wouldn't irk her. She didn't mind he cared, she liked it. But she wanted to be left alone. "I will just have to be fine, then, won't I? I'm not in the inferno anymore. I don't want company." Literally, she was not on fire. Literally, she ran no risk of being burned in this bonfire. Irrationally, a part of her was screaming she did. Figuratively, she was in the middle of a fire and this saint had no idea what to do, with no wings to fly away on.

A moment later, Isabella sighed, realizing how rude that sounded. "Sorry." She was sorry for sounding rude, but that didn't change the fact that right now, Isabella did not want Darwin around. She could see he'd sat himself down out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't going anywhere, was he? After another long moment, she spoke again."You're not going anywhere, are you?"

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words| 380
tagged| Xelios / Dee
notes| I should be studying right now. >>'

[xelios]

FIRE IT UP, FIRE IT UP, IF YOU
need some conversation bring the magazine

[/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • ISABELLA AVADORE ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

No matter how hard Xelios tried, he couldn’t begin to imagine how painful Joan’s death must have been. He could only pretend like he understood just how deep her fear was, but truth be told he probably never would know how it felt. That was definitely something he was thankful for. Xelios was selfishly glad that his life, both of them for that matter, had been mostly emotional trauma rather than physical. Living with the pain of getting thrown out seemed so simple compared to living with the pain of having been raped and set ablaze. Naturally, he wouldn’t easily voice these thoughts to Isa no matter how much she pestered him. Thus, Xelios held Isa in very high regard. Here she was, staring out at the fire without crying or having a panic attack. He didn’t think his shirts could handle much more of her abuse. “You don’t want it,”

[/color] he started to agree. “But you certainly needed it,”[/color] he finished, tucking his shaggy dark hair behind one ear.

He didn’t mind how rude her statement had been. He had been told much worse in this lifetime alone. He understood that not even saints could keep their emotions in check. She was human too. He certainly wasn’t as skilled at maintaining his own emotions as people assumed. He may always appear blank and emotionless on the outside but there was so much going on under all of that flesh. Always thinking. Always pondering. Always perceiving. “Don’t worry about it,”[/color] he spoke in a low and somewhat distant tone. He was sitting now, making himself comfortable for the time being. “No, I’m not going anywhere,”[/color] he repeated, moving his eyes to look at her rather than his face. His arms rested on his knees and held his chin on his folded hands. He might as well make himself comfortable.
[/justify] [/blockquote]words: 302
lyrics: modest mouse, fire it up
notes: - - -[/blockquote]

[Isabella Jillian Avadore]

The fire. The fire. It hadn't been so bad before it had touched her, just burned on up, being very uncomfortably hot. She'd nearly passed out them, from the smoke, but then the wind had changed...and the smoke, suddenly, was not going to kill her. The smoke would have been a much easier way, much less painful. She could smell the smoke from across the lake, and it made her shudder rather violently when a breeze lifted his hair every so slightly. Just a simple breeze and smoke could do it...though granted she was staring at a bonfire. "I don't need company." Joan of Arc grumbled at the voice nearby. She liked his voice. But right now, she wanted it to get lost, and leave her to sit and stare until the flames went out, and the ashes thrown into the water. "You just insist on giving it to me." Yes, even saints got pissed off. Pissed off saints weren't to be crossed, but Darwin had already pissed off the entire Creationist section of religious peoples, so he probably didn't care.

To his next words, Isabella said nothing at all. Maybe if she shut up, he'd go away, but...as with all her closest friends, she grudgingly knew it wasn't the case, and not when there were other feelings involved. Combine that with the fire and she shuddered again. Why was she here, anyway? Was it some sort of apology? Was it only because she had a mission, or did she have both? According to Talia and Xelios both, it was as some sort of evener, given a short and emotionally and physically brutal existence.

More time passed, and Xelios didn't move. Finally, she moved slightly, not uncurling herself but just turning her head briefly to the side to see him, then back forwards again. "I don't know what to say to you. And I don't know what to think." She wasn't commenting on his being there, but her being there. "I just...had to come, I guess. To see the it..." She trailed off and shrugged.

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words| 386
tagged| Xelios / Dee
notes| If I'm not giving you enough to work with, meebo or PM me. -nodnod-

[xelios]

FIRE IT UP, FIRE IT UP, IF YOU
need some conversation bring the magazine

[/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • ISABELLA AVADORE ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

Xelios could be just as stubborn as Isa if the situation called for it, and right now was one of those times. He firmly believed, despite Isa’s words, that if she was left alone she would end up having a panic attack. As much as he didn’t want to fully admit his feelings for her, seeing her that afraid wasn’t something he could go through again. His shirts and his mind couldn’t handle seeing Isabella break down. She was so strong and seeing her like that was heartbreaking and foreign to the boy. The simple fact that she had been willing to listen to his religious point of view, after much arguing mind you, said enough to him. He still believed that she simply had an undiagnosed mental disorder rather than hearing the voice of God, something he would never express to anyone, while she took the time to tell him that it was normal to have the opinions he had. Joan, a Catholic saint, telling Darwin that it was normal to have the opinions he had. Xelios held her in very high regard; he wasn’t going to just leave her there. He said nothing for the time being, knowing that anyone more would just warrant more bitterness from her.

Thus, the two sat in silence for quite some time, which was nothing out of the ordinary really. Xelios wasn’t exactly the most talkative and expression guy in the world. Quite frankly, Xelios enjoyed silence. Well, it wasn’t exactly silent but you got the point. Sitting there, beside Isa, and listening to the breeze in the trees, rippling water, cackling fire and chattering people. He didn’t need to speak, he could just listen. It was something he had done a lot of in both lives. During his walks while his family was at church, and during a vast majority of this lifetime when the people he was surrounded by were fighting. So, Xelios simply sat there and pondered about nothing specific. Fleeting thoughts with little purpose to him other than to pass the time. The mind of Charles Darwin was scarcely quiet, but not every thought was deep and analytical.

He barely stirred when she spoke, simply glancing over at her without moving his head. Hair obstructed his view of her but that was normal for him. He watched her carefully, his expression somewhat sympathetic. “You don’t have to say anything,”

[/color] he reminded her. “I don’t expect you to know everything, even if it’s about yourself.”[/color] Hell, Xelios didn’t know much about himself, why would anyone else? If that even made sense. Boldly he scooted a bit closer, putting an arm around her shoulders. “A step more than most people would take,”[/color] he mused. Most people weren’t so quick to face their fears, especially ones as strong as Isa’s were.
[/justify] [/blockquote]words: 470
lyrics: modest mouse, fire it up
notes: - - -[/blockquote]

[Isabella Jillian Avadore]

Hands burnt beyond repair still clung to burning wood, locked around them as though a life still over an hour from ending depended on it. She could still move them, if she tried. She had once, just to see if she could move a finger. She could, but it sent more pain through her. Joan had long since given up struggling against the metal bonds, read hot and branded to her skin. There was no escape. This was the end God had planned for her, and after an hour on fire, she had come to accept it each breath as, perhaps, her last. The smoke was so much closer, she often coughed.

Joan tried not to think about the fact that the smoke she was inhaling was the residue of yet more of her own flesh and wood. The flames lapped hungrily at her body, having crept up beyond her legs - she was unable to support herself upon whatever they were at this point, and sagged against the chains, red hot metal. She could see the crowd staring at her, some looking triumphant, others aghast. The crowd of people, around the bonfire, fully aware of what the dancing flames could do.

The crowd of people, unaware of what the dancing flames could do. Some looked to be having the times of their lives, others, slightly less social, with a few friends. A drunk boy, unable to support himself, sagged against a friend. She saw a silhouette throw wood into the fire, and while she couldn't make it out, she knew how the flames would lap hungrily at it. She could smell the smoke, smell the residue of burnt wood, but could almost smell her flesh upon it.

This was what was in the mind of Isabella Avadore, the reincarnation of the Maid of Orleans. Fear, terror, so, so many other emotions that melded and mixed into a great, insurmountable mess of teenage girl plus some. It was not bravery that drew her here. She did not care to use this to get over her fears. No. This was not an act of bravery against fear. This was a strange feeling of being compelled. Perhaps it was in her soul. If she looked similar to how she had in the body of Jehanne D'Arc, perhaps she was drawn to a situation of similar calibre.

A shudder ran through her body, and she pulled her eyes away from the fire, upwards to the sky, as though searching for a sign, a Voice from God, yet there was no questioning in her eyes. Longing, yes, but not question. Longing, for what? For God, yes. For answers, yes. And, as loathe she was to admit it, for the ability to give the boy beside her a kiss without the feeling she might be committing a horrible sin - breaking a vow she had with God. A vow of chastity...but had it been broken, when she'd been raped? A maid was a virgin and her virginity had been beaten out of her and forcibly taken away - that didn't likely make her a maid. Even if people said so, she wasn't sure.

It was just too confusing, and Isabella tried time and time again to go on, as she couldn't help but feel she was being a baby over it all, a baby for crying, for being afraid, for not knowing how to explain what she felt. Even if Xelios said it was okay. "No, no, I do. This isn't fair to you. This isn't fair to anyone, I am just a baby!" She replied, tone oddly icy for a saint once on fire.

Then he put an arm over her shoulders. For a moment, Isa's entire body tensed up, a hand turning into a fist, then, with a sigh, she relaxed. "Yes, you did take a step more than most would take." She added, twisting his meaning around with ease.

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words| 687
tagged| Xelios / Dee
notes| I should be studying right now. >>'

[xelios]

FIRE IT UP, FIRE IT UP, IF YOU
need some conversation bring the magazine

[/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • ISABELLA AVADORE ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

Xelios couldn’t help but think of how creationists and evolutionists would react to Charles Darwin and Joan of Arc being romantically interested in one another. He imagined that a vast majority of people on both sides, assuming that everyone believed in reincarnation, would still be completely astounded and filled with disbelief. He didn’t imagine much good and support would come out of that, so he was definitely thankful that reincarnation was left to Hollywood, television and novels. Xelios would be the absolute first person to admit that if the world was aware that adored and hated people in history were being reincarnated the reaction would be entirely negative. Humans rejected what they didn’t understand. They were afraid of it, and thus no good would come of the world being aware. This was the sort of stuff he pondered when he was sitting in silence. Though, this was something he had thought about quite a while ago and was simply returning so he had something to pass the time with.

He turned to look at her, his expression some sort of blend or pensive and annoyed if that was even possible. “Saint or not, you’re still only human. You can’t be perfect and no one expects you to be. It’s not fair, no, but that’s how it is and that’s how it has to be and that’s how it is,”

[/color] he reminded her as his arm went around her shoulder, feeling her tense up and honestly expecting as much. Most people would probably take his words as harsh, but Isabella wasn’t like most people. “Well, I’m Santa beard, and sometimes I do stuff like that,”[/color] was all he could come up with.
[/justify] [/blockquote]words: 281
lyrics: modest mouse, fire it up
notes: - - -[/blockquote]

[Isabella Jillian Avadore]

In so many ways, liking Xelios made little sense...but her past life had made little sense. Why a short, sun-tanned, peasant girl, over a knight? Why this, why that? So many questions, so few answers, In so many ways, she longed for a simpler time...but couldn't help but enjoy the things in this one that came with all the complications and deeply entrenched fears of hers, all of which seemed to be happening at once. A boy, a bonfire, fear of the divine, fears of everything She didn't have many fears. But the ones she did have ran deep and were impossible to root out of her. And she hated them. Now because she was rendered helpless, she didn't care. But because she then became a burden on others, when she ought to be helping them, being useful, not being weak and unable to do anything.

So in a way, the words Xelios said helped, but in a way, they didn't. She was unhurt by the tone, or apparent harshness - if she wanted a hug she'd have hugged him or found Talia (who would probably allow a hug). But she didn't want a hug, she wanted reasonable words. And Darwin seemed a good candidate for that. "I don't care about being human. I'd like to be. But I need to grow up, all the same." She shook her head. "Just...this is why I wanted to reflect. On my own." That way, if she did break down, it wouldn't be on anyone, it wouldn't ruin a possibly nice night of some one's because Isa had gone and turned on waterworks beside a flipping lake.

Despite this, she couldn't help the tiny smile on her face when he mentioned the nickname of 'santabeard'. She relaxed a little, but it was neither his 'harsh' words nor following comment that had any bearing on her reaction. There, other forces were at play. Isabella turned her head to look at him, scrutinizing his face. "You don't have much of a beard now, though, do you?" She asked, with the slightest of smiles. "I wanted to be alone...but thanks." She added, and meant it, too.


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words| 401
tagged| Xelios / Dee
notes| Not the best...but I'm really, really sleepy. xP

[xelios]

FIRE IT UP, FIRE IT UP, IF YOU
need some conversation bring the magazine

[/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • ISABELLA AVADORE ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

While Xelios had his fair share of flaws and his fare share of quirks, but some of those quirks could be very useful when the times were right. Xelios wasn’t the kind of person to wrap the harsh realities of the world. He didn’t see a point in beautifying something that wasn’t in any way positive. Slapping a big colourful ribbon on the death of a loved one, or being thrown out of your house, or nearly dying wouldn’t make it better. It wouldn’t achieve anything except false hope. A false sense of security that would no doubt be shattered and cause more pain than being honest in the first place. He had always hated it when people tried to find light in his situation and try and find light about the fact that he was sleeping in shelters rather than a safe home like a child should. There was nothing positive about that. There was no need to pretty up bad news. That was, what he believed, exactly what Isa needed right now. She needed complete honesty, no matter how harsh it was.

“You need to grow up on your own time, not the time of everyone else. You died as an adolescent, and you’re an adolescent now still. No one expects you to wake up one morning and know the secrets of the universe, they simply expect you to live the same as any normal person,”

[/color] he spoke, attempting to reassure her while being honest with her. “And you don’t need to remind me that you’re far from normal,”[/color] he reminded her, his arm quite comfortable where it was with no intention of moving. If she had a problem with it then she would move it for him or shove him away. “Last I checked telepathy was limited to fiction, so your thoughts are completely on your own,”[/color] he also reminded her in a more light hearted tone. “And if I was telepathic, you would have known a long time ago.”[/color] He grinner ever so slightly, imagining the farfetched thoughts that would be heard from the minds of people like Fox or Hayden or, heaven forbid, Errol.

Catching the tiniest bit of a smile no doubt made him feel proud, glad he was cheering her up somehow. His own smile grew ever so slightly, looking at her with an odd sort of fondness. “I don’t think I can grow facial hair this time around,”[/color] he admitted almost regretfully, rubbing his chin with his other hand before dropping it in his lap. “You’re welcome, but you’re never alone anyways.”[/color] He looked up at the sky, almost gesturing to it with his head. He, of course, meant whatever higher power was watching over them.
[/justify] [/blockquote]words: 455
lyrics: modest mouse, fire it up
notes: - - -[/blockquote]

[Isabella Jillian Avadore]

What he had to say was right. Isabella knew that she was still just a teenager. But at the same time, what he had to say...well, she wasn't normal and he knew it, but teenagers didn't typically burn alive. No one did expect her to be a normal teen - at least not in her eyes. She helped lead RSOR, she saved France, and on a religious level she was freaking prayed to (a fact that both flattered and terrified her). There was so much that it was her duty to do, and don't get her wrong, she loved it. She'd go mad if she was idle, and in her past life was always doing something, too. And that being said, she expected herself not to end up like this - worried, hesitant, unsure, unsure if she could even be unsure - it wasn't any good; for her or anyone else. She shut her eyes, willing the fire to just go out. If the fire, if her own death wasn't staring her in the face, she might be okay. But it was right there. Right. Fucking. There.

She forced her eyes back open, staring the fire down with a fire in her own eyes. It wasn't hate, it wasn't loathing, but was just fight. Fire. She wasn't going to give in. "Hm." Was all she said to his speech, though she was digesting it all the same. She was just a teen, but...she wasn't, either.

At his next words, she both rolled her eyes and smiled a little bit again. "Well obviously." She said. "But that's not what I meant." Isa knew he knew it too, or at least, should know so. "If you were telepathic...I don't even know what I'd do." Avoid him, most probably. Though then she could finally prove to him the Voices weren't just in her head. Well. They were, but weren't just a figment of her imagination. She didn't think he thought he crazy anymore, but Joan had serious doubts on whether or not Darwin believed that she wasn't stark raving mad.

The conversation seemed to be moving to lighter topics, making her open up a bit more. "You'll be able to grow a beard eventually, Santabeard." She assured him, but said no more when he mentioned she was never alone. In a way, he was right. But in a way, when things started to go into a grey area (for example, she was VERY aware of his arm on her shoulders) it could feel like it indeed. God had created an earthbound saint, and instead of using Peter or Paul or someone that she knew would have stronger convictions and faith than she...had put her back. So in response, she just shrugged. She didn't want to talk about religion with him. Not right now. Now wasn't the time for a debate.

Isa looked out at the flames again, then back at Xelios. And then she shifted a bit closer to him, not so much as to get close as just to get comfortable, after having been in roughly the same position the whole night, and it was getting awkward.

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words| 590
tagged| Xelios / Dee
notes| Dundundun

[xelios]

FIRE IT UP, FIRE IT UP, IF YOU
need some conversation bring the magazine

[/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • ISABELLA AVADORE ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

Xelios wasn’t sure how Isa managed to handle so much responsibility when she was still so young. Unlike most of them, the reincarnates that is, she hadn’t lived to old age. She hadn’t lived past twenty, let alone eighty; she had been forced into maturity someone so young shouldn’t have had to do. He understood how different times had been back then and how different they were not, but he still believed that she shouldn’t be expected to know all of the answers. Perhaps God, should he exist, was giving Isa a second chance at a normal life. A second chance to actually be a normal child, and then a normal teenager, and then a normal adult. Well, normal with all things considered. There were no wars for her to fight, just her inner turmoil over things like fire and the cause of her night terrors. Xelios definitely held Isa in high regards for being able to handle so much, and for being able to fight the fire like she was. She was much stronger than people realized.

He was glad that the mood was lightening; glad that his words were amusing her even if it was slightly. While he didn’t quite understand his feelings for Isa, he understood that it wasn’t pleasant having to watch her be anything short of content. The several occasions when she ended up sobbing on him had been far from pleasant experiences for him. “Ditto,”

[/color] he remarked with a very gentle chuckle. “I’d most likely be driven mad between you and Errol,”[/color] he teased with a cheeky grin, giving her shoulder a bit of a rub. His other hand patted his chin lightly and rubbed his jaw before returning to his lap. “I don’t think this face would look very good with a beard,”[/color] he thought out loud. “I would look homeless,”[/color] he joked rather easily. It was surprisingly effortless to joke around like this with Isa. It didn’t feel forced like when he found himself opening up to Oliver. He didn’t feel obligated to speak about things he wasn’t yet comfortable with.

She shifted closer to him and for a moment he was a bit surprised, but a good sort of surprised. Xelios remained quiet, turning his face to look at her when she looked at him. He simply gazed at her for a moment and when moved his face closer to hers, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to hers. He was gentle about it, not trying to force himself on her by any means. She could easily shove him away if she wanted.
[/justify] [/blockquote]words: 435
lyrics: modest mouse, fire it up
notes: - - -[/blockquote]

[Isabella Jillian Avadore]

The conversation was getting more and more cheery, even in the face of the flames. That was a good thing. It wouldn't be healthy for Joan to sit there all night, let alone in total isolation. Night terrors, anyone? Usually they were about one thing only, but they'd happened thanks to flames on occasion. And so while Errol made her uncomfortable, the mention was by far was better than the searing flames across the lake - and more amusing too. "I'd like to think Errol would be the main wear on your sanity." Isa replied lightly but she further tensed when he rubbed her shoulder, and shifted slightly, telling him 'enough'. On another note, she genuinely wondered if he'd pry into her thoughts of given the chance. That didn't seem a very good thing to do to a person; invading their most private...privacy, however redundant that was.

She snorted at his next words, which was definitely a good thing, as half and hour ago she was basically semi-catatonic. "Xelios, all I can imagine you with is the santa-beard." On his second body, it would look just silly...and he would look homeless without a doubt. "A beard may not suit you in this life...but technically you could grow one." She added almost as an afterthought, as the conversation kind of...stopped.

But that didn't mean things stopped happening and she went back to staring at the fire. No, she moved to make herself comfortable, and...and then, all of a sudden, Xelios was in her face. And a moment later, Charles Darwin was kissing Joan of Arc, and the latter looked mildly alarmed. Her eyes were wide, and for a moment she was pale as the dead...then a blush crept up her cheeks. Her mind was a mix of 'squee', 'AHHHHHHHHRAPE!' and 'any second now, I'm going to be struck down by God'. One would assume it was more bad than good, but she didn't move away. Firstly, her captors had never taken to kissing her, unless they were drunk (at which point she could fight them off) and they had never succeeded in doing so. When they really wanted to rape her, they never went for the lips, just what mattered. Secondly, well...maybe life two was some sort of repayment. She was still God's tool. She accepted and enjoyed that fact. But maybe, just maybe, she could also lead some of her own life. Now, it was okay for "The Messenger" to have a boyfriend, right? Maybe? Wasn't this what this kiss meant?

So despite every fibre in her body going tense, and despite the fact her eyes were huge, despite the fact she didn't kiss him back by any stretch of the imagination, the 'squee' bit too over.

And while the fire burned as a backdrop, the pyre Joan did die upon, the patron saint of martyrs wasn't, for one moment, so afraid anymore.


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words| 537
tagged| Xelios / Dee
notes| Most poetic thread ending I have ever done