518
BROKEN
Played by EMILY
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Post by ELISE LEON on Mar 6, 2016 1:31:57 GMT -6
 i don't want to live to waste another day underneath the shadow of mistakes i made. 'cause i feel like i'm breaking inside. i don't want to fall and say i lost it all. 'cause baby there's a part of me to hit the wall, leaving pieces of me behind. and i feel like i'm breaking inside.
it had been a very short while since elise had returned to life once more...a month, at best. while she could have made a big deal about who she was or the fact she'd been resurrected after a few hundred years, she didn't. attention had never been something she desired, eve though it seemed to find her in the most negative of ways. this time, in this world she was completely unfamiliar with, she wanted to lay low. and that was just what she was out to do.
salem was where she woke, gasping for breath in the wooden and bound box she was laid to rest in. the last thing she recalled was the flames as they started to burn her flesh, the entire village surrounding her as they cheered on the death of the witch. the demon within her refused to let her truly die so they had bound her in the box, deep underground. for centuries elise had rested in a comatose state, somewhere between life and death. she screamed for sometime but realizing no one was going to hear her, she chose to conserve her energy. it was the demon part of her which helped her to bust out, but not after bloodying and breaking fingernails and skin in the process.
setting foot on land once more, it was clear she'd been away for many, many years. a kind stranger saw her frazzled state and offered her some clothing, a bathroom to clean up in, and finally a ride to a southern city he was travelling to. she sat silently in the vehicle, of which she was confused about, for a few hours until the destination of sleepy hollow had been reached. knowing both cole and esperanza[presumably] were dead, there was nothing to tie her to the very place she'd perished so painfully. instead, she wanted to escape.
and so, for the last few weeks, this is where elise had made a life for herself. it was difficult to obtain a job and a place to live, what with no money, social security card, or birth certificate, but she managed to use her sin eating to her ability...trading a guiltless conscious for free handouts. silently she agreed to pay everyone back when she was able, but first, she had to figure out the twenty-first century and how to survive in it. besides the obvious hurdles, the pain of her life was enough to cripple any person. truly, it was a wonder how she could get out of bed at all.
what elise had found disappointing was all the historical inaccuracies she had found. in media, literature, documentation...it was all there and mostly incorrect. while her knowledge of the world ended after her death, in 1693, she could at the very least, correct all misconstrued information predating that. the town library and local university had been so impressed with her early-world knowledge[of the aztecs, 16th and 17th centuries] that they hired her on as a historian for the town. as an official employee, she'd been working between the library, college, and historical society to spruce up their information.
today she'd been tasked with sorting through the historical records at the society, particularly those from salem. though they were indeed in sleepy hollow, there had been plenty of family linkage between the two and she was left to determine what dates and info were correct. after nearly four hours at it, it was proving to be a bit more taxing than she initially thought.
elise set her project down, abandoning the stacks of papers for a moment. she stood and stretched, deciding to meander through the rows of the 'restricted' section of the library. most of the books were too old for regular public use and therefore, were kept in archives. fingertips ran delicately over the bindings, taking only a second to read each title before moving on. it wasn't until she found one, labelled in latin, that she froze in her tracks. the title?
Parta Hernan Cortes. The Conquests of Hernan Cortes. Her entire life, that was all she had felt like...a conquest of the horrible man. She may have been the demon, but he was the one who was pure evil.
the woman felt her throat constrict, finding breathing or even capable thought difficult as she stared at it. she could hear nothing but the wild pounding of her heart in her ears, unable to think rationally. it seemed silly that a book would affect her in such a way but such should have been understandable for someone once under his control, both her mind and body. even hundreds of years later, after his death and her freedom, he continued to haunt her.
with cautious fingers, she grabbed the book, flipping through it. it was written in ancient latin, to which she understood without a problem. but each page she flipped, she grew angrier and angrier. her job was to deal with the inaccuracies but this was by far the worst. it painted the man as an adventurer and noble man, someone who tamed the old world. it mentioned his wives and his love for his family, but nothing of the aztec priestess he raped daily. her tears splashed the pages until she began ripping them out, leaving nothing but a few old pages clinging to the spine. and finally, she sank to the floor against the bookshelf, unable to deal with this breakdown. oh why did she have to return to life?
@open // first post crap // 921 TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ sP ADOXOGRAPHY |
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366
AMNESIAC
Played by CHROME
Posts: 12
Likes: 4
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Post by COLE LEON on Mar 12, 2016 16:17:46 GMT -6
It was only natural, after working with the gang for the amount of time that he did every day, that Cole became curious about tattooing and the work that would need to be involved to be one of the artists. The idea of working with his hands fascinated him, and he loved the beautiful designs that the people he worked with were able to create. He' started drawing recently, and according to Carson he actually wasn't half bad. Something drew Cole to the whole creativity of it all, the hard work, sweat and tears that was put into the design and the end result being breathtaking. Duncan had suggested that maybe Cole, in his previous life worked with his hands or something similar, which would explain his natural inclination towards the craft. It wasn't a half bad notion. Since he didn't remember anything before clawing out of his own grave, that theory seemed as likely as any of the others that had been posed.
It was frustrating, not being able to remember his past life. More than once, Cole had requested either Duncan or Abby to take him back to his grave, and most of the time they obliged, despite the time it took to get there. He would stare at it for hours, trying to figure out why he couldn't remember. He didn't have much to go by, since his headstone was no more than a plaque on the ground with his name, Cole Kenneth Leon (the combination of his first and middle name later inspiring the name Coke among the group), the year of his birth, a dash, and then the year of his death. Nothing else was there, nothing he could find to indicate he might have had a family, people who loved him. Part of Cole worried that maybe he didn't remember because he'd been someone awful, someone not worth remembering. When he voiced that opinion to Abigail, she immediately disregarded the notion, firmly telling him that if he'd been any sort f evil she would have never let him into her home. Knowing better than to argue with her, Cole chose to take comfort in the judgement of his friend.
On his day off, Cole decided to walk to the library and learn more about tattooing through the books he had there. The walk was pretty long, but he was in surprisingly good shape for a guy who hadn't moved in a few hundred years. Driving was a bit complex and he wan't all that good at it, so when Duncan and Abigail were busy, Cole would just walk or take advantage of the public transportation- not that there was much of that available in Sleepy Hollow. Still, he didn't mind, as it gave him the time to learn a lot about the world and the fascinating things in it, not all of which he understood all the time.The trip to the library was a peaceful one, as he wasn't disturbed by anything except the friendly people who would look up from their phones and say hello.
The extensiveness of the library was overwhelming. He found books o nearly every subject he could possibly imagine. Almost immediately, he was engrossed in the tattooing books he found, but he also stumbled onto those about carpentry and woodcarving, and he spent a while in that section as well. He found that the things he read in the books of carpentry he knew already, and he knew how the concepts could be applied, surprising himself with an abundance of knowledge on the subject. For the better part of an hour he leaned against a shelf and thumbed through the pages of the subject, hopeful that the knowledge would trigger a memory. It was close, he he could remember holding certain tools, the way they felt in his hand, and the way the sun would beat down on his back on warmer days, and the way his muscles would feel after a long day's work. All of that he remembered, but there were no images associated with it, nothing truly substantial to grab onto. Still, this bit of knowledge was priceless too him, and he was actually rather excited to know something about himself.
Cole wasn't sure what drew him into the historical fiction section, but with a pile of books in his hand, he scanned the titles, most of them not catching his interest. He doubted history would help his memory much, since he couldn't remember even where he was from. He went to turn away from the section when a book caught his eye, titled The Six Women of Salem. Impulsively, Cole dropped the books in his hand, not caring as they his the ground because suddenly this was all he could care about. He yanked the book off the shelf and tore through the pages, skimming them lime for lime as if they were going to tell him something about himself. Instead,he caught the name Sarah Good, and for the first time, a true memory stung n his mind. He could remember a woman crying, blonde hair and blue eyes and a face he knew wasn't meant for sadness. He remembered Sarah Good, the woman who often came to his door asking for food, her unborn child obvious in her stomach. He remembered the day she and two others were accused. He remembered her screaming.
Tears pricked the young man's eyes, the first memory of his being an awful one. The Salem Witch Trials, yes, he remembered them, at least partially. It also made sense why his gravestone dated his last year as 1692..... he remembered looking at Sarah and having the fear that they'd come for him next. Suddenly Cole's head ached, as if something else was pressing against his mind but the gate's wouldn't open. He felt strained, he felt sad. If this had been his life, then no wonder he didn't remember it. Who would want to? Cole forced himself to keep examining the pages, and for a while he was lost in them until he heard the flurry of activity on the other part of the library.Looking up, he made his way to the sound of tearing, the book still clutched tight in his hands. What he came to was the sight of a tear stained face among a sea of tor papers, clearly originating from the book the woman held in her hands.
Cole hesitated for a moment, then tilted his head to read the title of the book. Again acting on impulse, he cared his throat and said "History is written by the victors," and then he frowned, unsure as to what the hell possessed him to say that. Shaking his head, he chalked up his won weird behavior to the stress of his recent discovery. As much as he wanted to go home and talk about it with Duncan and Abigail, he refrained from leaving compelled by the sadness of the woman. Her pain drew him in like a moth to a flame, and he walked over and quietly sat down next to her. He put a hand on her hand and instantly started siphoning her pain, wincing at the discomfort of his supernatural food source. He asked her, genuinely curious,"Why does it bother you so much?" It was a weirdly familiar gesture for two strangers, but Cole had't realized he'd been in need of a fix, and so he sunk into the healing role naturally, compelled by the need to take away the lovely ladies pain.
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ TB ADOXOGRAPHY |
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518
BROKEN
Played by EMILY
Posts: 11
Likes: 1
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Post by ELISE LEON on Mar 13, 2016 21:56:17 GMT -6
i don't want to live to waste another day underneath the shadow of mistakes i made. 'cause i feel like i'm breaking inside. i don't want to fall and say i lost it all. 'cause baby there's a part of me to hit the wall, leaving pieces of me behind. and i feel like i'm breaking inside.
in thinking over the pain that failed to elude her, elise had even contemplated taking her own life by means of her blessed death abilities. unfortunately, though, as hard as she willed it, she couldn't make it happen. she knew it was because fate hadn't had it in store for her; that was the only way it worked. when she came across a person in pain or on the brink of death, as the reaper or fate or whatever so decided, she could deliver them. she took her lack of success as a sign that she was not meant to have a blessed death. however she died this time, it would probably be just as painful and wretched as the first time. her luck was that awful. she couldn't chalk it up to anything else because honestly, she'd already racked her brain for reasons. nothing came to mind. she did her best to help people and be a kind soul. yet somehow, she always ended up the most tormented scenarios possible. she'd decided this was what she was built for. the gods or god or whoever the hell was in charge, chose to use her as a test...almost as if determining how far a person could be pushed before they completely fell apart. the problem was, she'd already fallen apart about a million times over[or so she thought]...she was just too much a coward to take her own life.
her time in the coffin had sent her to purgatory. as a demon, hell seemed the most fitting place to go but she was not your typical demon. she was soft and kind and full of love. furthermore, she was not fully dead. but purgatory had been no walk in the park for her. she ran into monsters and nightmares of all sorts, enough to put her through torment over the last couple hundred years. it was never ending, it seemed. perhaps the worst thing about it was the illusion of both cole and esperanza that would occasionally taunt her. she could ever decide if it was real or a mirage but regardless, it pained her each time. she would chase and chase, for hours, until she found herself circling back around to the same place. she never managed to catch up. all she could do was hope it were all fake and that somewhere, they were enjoying a peaceful afterlife.
the popularity of libraries had long since died out. most of the visitors she'd seen over the last few weeks were seniors who didn't have their own computers or those who were enrolled in the book club. it was safe to say she didn't believe she'd run into anyone here, except perhaps doris, the librarian, coming to check on her. anyone finding her during her meltdown would have been nothing but an embarrassment. then again, that was all her life had amounted to, for the most part. there were very few moments in which she was happy and all the people who made her feel that way were gone...forever.
the voice calling out to her should have startled her but instead, it only made her want to recede into a hole. "this country honors murderers..." she muttered shortly before her lips parted to kindly tell the stranger to go away. elise still hadn't managed to life her gaze, but out of her peripherals noted that the man took a seat next to her. had her mind been in a sound place, perhaps the voice would have been more recognizable to her. how could she ever forget the way the 'i love you's' used to roll off his tongue. "look, i'm sure you're a really nice guy and all bu-..." she glanced up at him, mid-telling-him-to-go-away, only to lose her voice altogether. his touch derailed her completely, causing her body to tremble uncontrollably.
more than anything, elise wanted to touch him...to feel him. but she refrained from doing so, purely because she thought him a figment of her imagination. a ghost, perhaps, and touching him would drive him away. the sobs had sobbed, turning to silent and fat tears that streaked down her sunkissed cheeks. "c-cole?" she managed to stammer out, reaching up to touch his face only to draw back sharply before she made contact. "you know very well why..." she squeaked out in response to his earlier retort about the book. it had taken her years to open up to cole about the horrors cortes had put her through, but she eventually had. "please...be real." she finally whispered, taking a moment to study every inch of his face, just in case he disappeared.
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ sP ADOXOGRAPHY |
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366
AMNESIAC
Played by CHROME
Posts: 12
Likes: 4
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Post by COLE LEON on Mar 14, 2016 21:56:40 GMT -6
His own species troubled him slightly. Duncan had identified him as a demon, and his abilities reflected the need to feed in the way that most demons do. However, he feed off the pain of others and removed them from that pain, or a sin if it be that, and that contradicted most notions given to demons. Cole certainly didn't feel evil, he didn't feel destructive at all really. Sometimes he felt as though he were a burden to Duncan and Abigail, but they never once complained, and often chided him for expressing this concern. For the most part, he had the urge to help those around them, not hurt them. Still, the title demon never settled with him, just for the negative connotation of it.
Part of him wondered if he'd been the religious sort, since he flinched away from the title so instinctively. Although now he couldn't really find the will to believe in much, he could somewhat imagine himself down on bended knee with his hands pressed against one another in prayer. He'd bowed his had once or twice, and the motion seemed fairly natural to him. Once upon a time, he thought, Cole could have been a very god fearing man. He wondered why now that same faith couldn't reach him... maybe it was because of his new title. Maybe because of the fact that he couldn't even believe in himself right now, let alone the powers on high.
His curiosity when it came to tattooing came from two places inside himself. The first was the need to discover who he was, the man behind the gravestone. But part of it was also the need to make something of this new person, this new slate that had been wiped clean of it's former markings. He wanted not to be a ghost of what had been, but a member of what was, what could be in this world. Tattooing seemed like a good expression of that, since although he knew it caused pain, he saw the faces of people who had their completed pieces... pride, usually, with gratitude and just a shining happiness that Cole loved to see. There was something very amazing about the look someone carried with them after getting new ink, whether it be the first time or their thousandth piece. It was special, and Cole very much wanted to be a part of something like that.
When he came across the girl, the part of him that required the need to heal someone kicked into gear. His actions were part kindness, part of who Cole had always been, and part demon, the need to feed off a pain he could see inside of someone else. "So I've heard," Cole agreed with her assessment. He knew little of history, but it seemed violent and unappealing on the whole. He sat down next to her, frowning when he heard the start of her rejection and then raising his eyebrows in surprise at her expression. Her haunted expression caught him off guard for a moment, not expecting to see a face that struck him so deeply. "Didn't mean to bother you," he murmured quietly, but didn't move away from her o his position on the floor next to her.
Even more surprising than her face was the use of his name. Cole's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and all he did was nod in reply. Sure, he didn't have the most reliable memory, but he was sure he would remember if he'd seen this girl. Her beauty was remarkable, and never could she have escaped his notice... this was not a forgettable woman, he knew that with only a few moments of being close to her. Her words puzzled him, and once again he frowned, unsure what to make of it all. He was distressed by the fact she seemed so unwilling to reach out to him, as he needed to touch her in order to feed, but he refrained from broaching that barrier she was creating. "I'm sorry," he said, sincere in his words, "I don't know what you mean." He paused for a moment and looked at her as intently as she was staring at him and then finally broached the question, "How do you know my name? I'm sorry, don't mean to be rude or anything, it's just my memory has been a bit... unreliable lately. Have we met?" There was no way of knowing that while he was looking into the eyes of a stranger, the woman before him was seeing a ghost.
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ TB ADOXOGRAPHY |
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518
BROKEN
Played by EMILY
Posts: 11
Likes: 1
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Post by ELISE LEON on Mar 24, 2016 13:39:15 GMT -6
i don't want to live to waste another day underneath the shadow of mistakes i made. 'cause i feel like i'm breaking inside. i don't want to fall and say i lost it all. 'cause baby there's a part of me to hit the wall, leaving pieces of me behind. and i feel like i'm breaking inside.
it wasn’t until she was sacrificed to help her aztec village that elise returned as the monster most would know her as. funny thing was, anyone who did know her, would consider her far from the evil being she was supposed to be. it was simply because she took something, the sins of others, that she was known as a demon. while most of the time her sin eating was harmful to no one but herself, she still fed from the mortals as she did it. in her original life, she was revered as a woman with great magic powers, someone that was worshipped as a high priestess in her community. but later in salem ,she became that monster…something that people didn’t understand so they feared. the idea of magic and religion was reserved for one man: god. anything or anyone else that displayed such a thing, living on earth, was damned. the demoness assumed that people like those who murdered cole and herself still existed, but to what extent she did not know. she had not yet run into a hunter and frankly, she hoped that the world had evolved from such single-mindedness. that was asking for a lot, though.
elise was still very much stuck in as much of the past that she could grasp. not the damaged parts which seemed to follow her anyway, but the times of old. she wasn’t interested in cell phones or computers or anything of that sort. she stuck to the library in attempts to correct history with what she knew to be true. and in fact, she’d really done very little to try to see what she had missed out on, mostly because there was so much behind her to focus on. and frankly, a part of her wasn’t sure how long this resurrection would last. perhaps it was just a mistake that she had been brought back to life. the last thing she wanted to do was make a life for her only to have it ripped away. besides, how could she possibly exist here, alone, without her husband and child. she was interested in it and so, she was merely existing…getting by on the bare minimum.
“no….not.” she muttered at his apology, trying to keep him from going. it didn’t come out as she hoped but her pleading look was probably enough to convince him he wasn’t a bother. her head was such a mess that she couldn’t even put out sentences correctly. considering her luck, he’d probably think she was a crazy woman and up and leave. “please…please don’t go. don’t leave me.” her desperation became audible as she all but begged him to stay, tears consistently falling. they fell in her lap, soaking what was left of the book pages until they were nothing but a damp mess.
in her own swell of emotions, they seemed stunted slightly by his question. the confusion surrounding his line of question would be a blow to her in a few seconds, when she panned it all out, but initially, it was nothing but a perplexity. in fact, she took a moment to study the youthful man very closely. had she been so foolish as to mistake him for her long-dead husband. had she been so lonely that her mind was tricking her into thinking someone with similar features was indeed cole? had a couple centuries under the ground rotted her mind to the point of delusions? but as her eyes carefully traced his face, she knew she wasn’t wrong. he had those same eyes that reminded her of what home really meant – it wasn’t a physical place but rather any place where comfort and love were found. to her, that had always been in cole’s arms. and his soft spoken voice…that was the same too. even though the words were not what she wanted to hear, the tone had a way of enveloping her, reassuring her that someday, everything would be alright. if he smiled, she was sure she would find that it would chase all her fears away too, just as it always was. this was cole. her cole. yet nothing about his mannerisms said that. he didn’t seem to know who she was.
elise did her best to hold her voice steady though her body shook slightly. “cole leon. that is your name” she stated, though it was really more of a question. if he denied it, then she’d really have a problem. but if she at least had confirmation it was her cole, then they could go from there. “we are…were…” stumbled over the tenses, unsure of what to do with them. “…married. it’s me, elise…” she took a breath and held it sharply, waiting for some response. how could he not remember her? was she in purgatory again, imagining all of this? after all, cruel jokes like this had been consistent for her there.
TEMPLATE BY ELIZA @ sP ADOXOGRAPHY |
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