So so so I decided to make a little storyline to describe mine/my character feelings (some of that is tales some is truth tho) it will be a series of texst stories.Enjoy if you are any interested
Part one:This is why I am waiting.
It was a usual day with boring routine for hours:To make a cup of cofee for Master Viktor, to clean his laboratory, to summon Jayce or him on the fields of justice, to make a homework, okay, try to make a homework. Yes, it was a simple day before she found an old b-day card under her bed. A tulipe flower on it, picture, drawn by the hand of a child. Sloppy carvings, pale colouring and Ah it must be in trashca…
“Come back faster,please, Granda, we are waiting”
We are waiting
She fell to her knees and sobbed: GRANDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…
Erdaina couldnt stop herself or make her memory clear, the way how this card revived her memories about dearest thing in her life made her totally broken.
You know, if I will setting aside all the feelings it will be still a sad story. I always wanted to have a family, kind, loving, patient. But my parents are not like that, I suppose thats because my father left us too early and my mother was too young to understand how to act with children. Thats why I was beaten for every fucking mistake I did.
Will you do it again?
Will you do it again?!
-WILL YOU DO IT FUCKING AGAIN?!!!
-no..STOP IT,PLEASE,I WILL NOT,I WILL BE GOOD,I WILL BE BETTER….
The time when I tasted protest, flowing in my blood, I am Zaunite. And I will rebel until you’ll break my back into the nothing.
I never know my father for real or, no, I know him, the time when he broke my lips. It was the day before my b-day when my grandma was in an argue with my dad and I said something stupid. He came closer and smashed my face, ahh my bottom lip swelled as dumpling. Grandma started to blame him and complain and he smashed my face again, just to show his protest against her. My top lip became equal to bottom one.
Taste of blood and duckface for the next couple of days was totally nice b-day gift for me, oh, boy.
The memories about violence from the both of my parents made me distant of them. They think I forgot all this fuck, but I am not. Yes, thats dirty to lie when my own mom asking me “Do you love me?” but I have to.
Guess she will be too dissapointed if I will but I’d say NO.
All my relations and conversations with them is lies lies lies. And let it be.
And my grandma loving me and doing all the things to please me, but we are… Different. And never tried to understand each other. It is my fault too.
So the only ONE who I loved as my FAMILY, that imaginary one, that warm one, that dear one was my grandfather. I still remember that tonz of sweets that tales that big strong hands protecting me. I still remember myself riding on his shoulders or holding him. Its sweet memories of childhood. Not dirty ones.
He died, accidentally. He flied away and fell from the skies. And he was in hospital for a long. I visited him sometimes but u kno there is no cure from cancer.
Come back, come back to me. I am waiting here, patiently…
I still visit docks to watch how zeppelines coming back from the heith of the sky and I think that one day he will come back and take me with him into the place where I will unable to taste what is childhood again.
OOC: Do more of those please, I enjoyed to read this one very much!