07-27-2018, 02:20 AM
Her friends tell her that she is too loud. Too loud, too abrasive, too stupid. Just too much. Well, they told her this earlier today. Right now they’re telling her to stop leaning out of the god damn window of the car and buckle her seat belt before she gets killed. But she doesn’t listen, she just leans a little further back until she’s not sure she’s even able to make it back into the car. Her milk-white stomach is exposed and her shirt is hardly covering her chest as it gets ruffled madly in the wind. Her ink black hair is tangling helplessly and they can’t slow down or they’ll be late for their curfew. Again. She’s laughing so hard her sides hurt even when she feels an angry hand yank her back into the car by her hips. Still, she’s laughing, laughing recklessly and there’s no way to tame her tonight.
The driver pulls over and tells her to get out. They argue for a while but she never stops smiling, even when they pull away and leave her coughing in a cloud of dust and sand. She chuckles and combs her fingers through her hair as she watches the tail lights disappear into the distance without her. Her tongue runs across her chapped lips and she realizes her lip has gotten split at some point during the whole ordeal. The adrenaline is still coursing through her veins though so she doesn’t care one bit. Instead, she leans down to tighten her shoelaces and takes off toward the beach. She was always posting on Twitter and Instagram how only the ocean really “got her”, whatever that means.
She keeps her head held high as she saunters through the tall grasses in search of the midnight black waves. The stars cast a faint glow over the pale skin of her shoulders and face but they don’t offer enough of their strength for her to see the girl laying in the grass. Instead, she discovers her by tripping on the poor stranger’s legs, sending her face first toward the ground with a wild screeching sort of yelp that could inspire roaring laughter from anyone watching nearby. God bless her, she’s got a sort of feral beauty, but not a bit of grace.
The girl rolls on to her ass and looks at the culprit in confusion – sad eyes, wine bottle, alone in a field. This was not her scene at all but she supposes she could crash this party anyway.
“Sorry if I hurt you, but also what the hell are you doing?” she says as she begins to smear the dirt on her knees in a poor attempt to wipe it off. The split in her lip is now worsened and a trickle of blood is edging down her chin, but she hasn’t begun to notice it just yet. She’s more focused on the girl with the wine bottle and a head full of worries for the time being.
(this is human mordgeld. she's collected a lot of dust in the closet, so I am sorry.)
The driver pulls over and tells her to get out. They argue for a while but she never stops smiling, even when they pull away and leave her coughing in a cloud of dust and sand. She chuckles and combs her fingers through her hair as she watches the tail lights disappear into the distance without her. Her tongue runs across her chapped lips and she realizes her lip has gotten split at some point during the whole ordeal. The adrenaline is still coursing through her veins though so she doesn’t care one bit. Instead, she leans down to tighten her shoelaces and takes off toward the beach. She was always posting on Twitter and Instagram how only the ocean really “got her”, whatever that means.
She keeps her head held high as she saunters through the tall grasses in search of the midnight black waves. The stars cast a faint glow over the pale skin of her shoulders and face but they don’t offer enough of their strength for her to see the girl laying in the grass. Instead, she discovers her by tripping on the poor stranger’s legs, sending her face first toward the ground with a wild screeching sort of yelp that could inspire roaring laughter from anyone watching nearby. God bless her, she’s got a sort of feral beauty, but not a bit of grace.
The girl rolls on to her ass and looks at the culprit in confusion – sad eyes, wine bottle, alone in a field. This was not her scene at all but she supposes she could crash this party anyway.
“Sorry if I hurt you, but also what the hell are you doing?” she says as she begins to smear the dirt on her knees in a poor attempt to wipe it off. The split in her lip is now worsened and a trickle of blood is edging down her chin, but she hasn’t begun to notice it just yet. She’s more focused on the girl with the wine bottle and a head full of worries for the time being.
(this is human mordgeld. she's collected a lot of dust in the closet, so I am sorry.)