Goose
Timid - Broken - Childish
Such a heavy heart
Pet Name: Goose
Owner: Masquerade
Theme / Type: Frost Phelocan
Born: March 21, 2012
Gender: Female
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 15 / 15
Strength: 15
Defense: 0
Speed: 20
Intellect: 10
Misticpower: 1
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
The River will keep this friend
You
silly,
stupid
goose.
---
She ran until her face was numb with cold and
Wore a cotton gown that blazed the night untold.
She ran until her feet refused to hold
So heavy a heart for someone merely ten years old.
And when she reached the river her knees began to shiver,
Her head with pounding voices from home.
Behind her was a vision, a painful apparition
Of a darker world that no-one should know.
Somebody's bed will never be warm again,
The river will keep this friend.
Yeah somebody's bed will never be warm again,
No never again.
She dived beneath the water's icy skin,
Hoping the cold would kill the smell of angry gin,
And her eyes grew wider than they'd ever been
Just wishing the numbness to cut deeper with its pins.
And as her body lay there she decided to stay there
Till darkness came to pull her away.
And beautifully she sank as up river was the bank
Where some bodiless troubles would stay.
Somebody's bed will never be warm again,
The river will keep this friend.
Yeah somebody's bed will never be warm again,
No never again.
Somebody's bed will never be warm again,
The river will keep this friend.
Yeah somebody's bed will never be warm again,
No never again.
---
The summery breeze should have felt warm on my skin, but all I could feel was the icy numbness deep, deep down. Sure, my face was hot with tears--it was cooling in the night air, now--and various places on my arms, feet, and stomach were burning with intense pain, but deep down...I felt a terrible, awful nothing. Beneath me, my toes were bleeding and scratched, but I couldn't feel the agony of their bruised bones. I couldn't stop the pain in my right shoulder, let alone the pain in my heart. I couldn't think, couldn't feel.
The fact was, I couldn't do anything.
The night seemed too perfect, too tranquil for me to be running through it, my breath ragged and face stained with salty, acidic tears. It seemed too calm for my head to be pounding with raised voices, accusations. Why weren't the stars falling down on me? Did they mean to mock me, twinkling up there as if nothing was wrong? And the moon--why hadn't it fractured into a thousand shards, sharp as glass? It was too lovely a night for me to ruin.
Another mistake to add to my list of many.
Eventually, the flames in my lungs got the best of me, and I slowed to a walk. My knees were shaking, or maybe it was my hands. Wait, no. My whole body was shaking with sobs. They weren't sad, self-pitying cries--no, they were angry noises, bottled up for so long, and now that they were coming out, I couldn’t seem to stop them. My mind was moving as if through molasses. All I could see was mother's face, tearstained and tragic, as she tried to calm my father, whose fists just swung again and again, like some terrible pendulum. And the stink of alcohol on his breath. How it stung my eyes, made my breath come short. And those awful, awful words.
This is all your fault.
It's not that I didn't already know that it was. But hearing them, the dagger-pointed accusation dripping from them like poison, that's what undid me. I shouldn't have run, like the coward I am, too small and insignificant and scared. But this summer night air felt nice on my face, drying away the tears. The warmth of the afternoon was being sapped from the air, slowly draining away to leave a brisk coolness that seemed to settle part--if not all--of my tired mind.
The peace was settling over me like a blanket, sweet and soft, when it was shattered like the illusion it was.
"Felicia! Felicia Rogers, you get back here!"
The voice was distant, the words slurred. But it was undoubtedly coming towards me, following the path of crumpled plants and footprints in the dirt.
I thought for a moment that my heart stopped beating as sheer panic overwhelmed me. Part of me--the part that still wanted to be the good daughter, the loved one--wanted to go towards the voice, beg for forgiveness, take any blows willingly and without a single tear. But the other part--the bigger part--knew that I would never be the loved one, that I would never please them. I wasn't sure if it was me or if it was them--but I knew that I would never be enough.
And so I ran.
I ran through trees and across fields and under the light of the crisp, full moon. My nightdress caught around my legs, and as I looked down, it caught the moonlight and shone it up into my eyes, like a beam from a flashlight. I stumbled, and then picked up, faster than before. My father still called out behind me, but he was only wandering slowly after me, his mind still in a fog of gin.
I almost didn't see the water.
Its silvery rills were painted in moonlight, the paleness of the light almost matching the smooth tawny coat of the banks' sand. I stumbled to a halt, my breath coming fast, legs shaking as if they would hold up no longer, and my cheeks flushed from the growing nip of the evening. I stood there for several long moments that stretched into minutes--me, breathing hard and feeling broken, and the river, who just meandered gracefully along the countryside, knowing everything and telling nothing. An idea came to me then, but it was so crazy, so wild, I pushed it away.
"FELICIA!"
His voice was so much closer that it should have been--I had been standing there for far too long.
"Felicia, what on earth are you doing?"
My father, with his messy hair and wild eyes and big hands--he was close to me now, I could tell.
I didn't say anything, didn't look back. I doubt he even caught my whisper. "I'm sorry, papa."
"Felicia, you are in a lot of trouble--"
He lunged lazily at me, I could hear his feet slipping on the soft sand. I knew that he wouldn't grab me that time, but it was enough for him to gauge the distance between us. I had to move.
And so I lunged forward, not thinking, only doing. I latched on to that crazy idea--and plunged into the icy cold of the river.
Its sharp nails dug deep into my skin, and my eyes grew wide with the simple shock of it. It rushed into my ears, my eyes, my mouth. It rushed through the fibers of my nightdress, weighing me down. For a panicked moment, I kicked and shouted, releasing a long stream of bubbles. The moon was a watery illusion far above me. Slowly, I was sinking.
The current, moving fast, wrapped around my legs like a cat begging to be scratched behind the ears. The water embraced me, carried me away, chasing away all my troubles. Distantly, my lungs were burning, but that seemed a small price to pay for this serenity.
And, as if in slow motion, I sank downwards, my eyes drifting closed, letting go of all I'd ever known.
I'm sorry, papa.
And, finally, I knew peace.
---
Somebody's bed will never be warm again,
The river will keep this friend.
Yeah somebody's bed will never be warm again,
No never again.
Name: Felicia "Goose" Rogers
Nicknames: Goose, Lissy
Alias: Doesn’t have an official one; but occasionally will sign notes as "Goose"
Gender: Female
Nationality: Caucasian; a mix of many individual nationalities (she moved a lot when she was living, and doesn't consider herself to belong to one specific country)
Age: 10
Species: Human/Water Spirit
Occupation: Dancer in the Theatre
Hair Color: Mousy Brown; falls a little past her shoulders
Eye Color: Brown; they are slowly developing blue tints, so it looks like the caramel color is being bled-through with indigo
Height: 4' 8"
Skin Tone: Very fair; almost porcelain-like
Build: Very slight and small; easily pushed around, yet somehow graceful
Theme Song: The River; Missy Higgins
S.O.: Straight
Relationship Status: Still thinks boys are 'icky'.
Background: Grew up in a very broken family. Her mother had once upon a time been a European model, but she gave up her profession to be with her father, at the time a wealthy young man, the heir to a large corporation, and who she also thought she was irrevocably in love with. About two years after their marriage, Felicia’s father was disinherited for a series of scandals that were threatening to ruin the company. He took to drinking, and eventually became an addict. His wife gave birth to Felicia about five years into their marriage. She has known more homes than she can count, as her father moved the family around a lot in the effort to find a lasting job. And while Felicia’s mother did the best she could, she could not protect her daughter--her only child--from the rage that the drink brought upon her father. Felicia finally escaped from her abusive home, and drowned herself after a particularly bad fight with her family. She was found several miles downstream from where she had dove into the river, and was rushed to the nearest place possible to save her life--this place happened to be the infamous Theatre d’Os. And while her life was not saved, Felicia’s spirit was bound to the Theatre, and due to her watery grave, she has become a water spirit--a half-ghost, half human creature that has certain affinities to water. She became a dancer, out of fondness for a ballet class she took for three months while living in Russia, and has lived--or perhaps existed would be a better term?--in the Theatre ever since.
---
Boxed Wednesday, March 21, 2012 2:14 PM.
Thanks Skyleigh for the box and the MC (I love you sooo much), and Sherry for selling me the PSC! <3
If ever lost, please return me to Masquerade!
A bank where some bodiless troubles should stay
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