. * / SCRIPT. Pandora D . - Tumblr Posts
cohmpton.
[…]
It shouldn’t have any sentimental value for him, but it belonged to a dear friend of his. Lost in the war like all good men. The trenches swallowed them all up and refused to release any parts of their souls to the earth. The pocket watch is snapped shut, the faint ticking of it still echoing in his eardrums. ‘I’m lookin’ after it for a friend.’ A murmured response before he takes a step to the side to allow other event-goers to pass by them. ‘I’m afraid he’d be less than impressed if I were to lend it to anyone else, ma’am.’
she immediately recoils , as if struck by a sudden realization . this strange coldness ensues - a breath of wind nipping at her neck , almost like it wants to whisper words in her ear. this room is full of tragedy , and he’s no exception . “ so you’re like its guardian ---- i get it now ! you’re right , you should keep it close . " there’s a veil of twinkling moroseness behind the serenity of her eyes . “ your friend’s lucky to have you . ”
thiehf.
[…]
While Bela had kept a usually compartmentalized view on business and pleasure, there were always going to be exceptions. The lines bleed out eventually, and sooner or later the price comes calling. The moonstone had been kept in a particularly unique hiding place for weeks now, but there was an odd occurrence of feeling more secure whenever she kept it on her person. Foolish, if anything, but she couldn’t help but be overcome with possessiveness when trailing her fingers along the polished milky-coloured stone whenever she opened her velvet clutch. There was another inside the women’s restroom at the bar who had unknowingly seen something that others would simply die to have. She must play this very carefully, bring no unwanted attention towards the thief and her loot. ‘This little thing? A gift-shop trinket.’ A hummed out reply, the lie tumbling from her mouth like silk and sweetened only by the feigned sheepish smile gathering along her lips now. ‘I could get you one of your own, darling[…]it’d be no trouble at all.’
she finds things sometimes : without meaning to , wanting to . her feet seems to travel an endless road that always leads to lost things . of course , those beady eyes never know what to search for , why some things seem so eager to be uncovered and others seek shelter in the shadows of abandonment . it’s confusing ----- and she doesn’t think much of it then because it’s so easy to be enthralled by the way bela carries herself , how easily a room will accommodate her , as if it were her own . “ a trinket? " her head lolls into the crook of her neck , for a split-second --- she glances over to the empty space near bela’s shoulder. “ i know , it looks so ... ” a beat . her gaze flutters perfectly poised woman : ankles of steel and spine straight as an arrow , the way her honeyed tongue seems to warp words into fitting her narrative - she’s like those femme fatales on late-night tv , spit straight from a black-and-white noir film . “ oh . i mean ---- i’d really like that . if ... you’re sure . ”
merlohtte.
[…]
An expression of complete confusion as he pauses with the bottle of twenty year scotch in his hands. Brows furrowing while he debates on whether or not the question is serious. Mouth parting with hesitation as he slides the bottle onto the bar counter. ‘This here is an old scotch. Not the worst, but it ain’t really the best.’ A moment of observance of the youthful face, jaw working in a half-circle. ‘You got I.D. on you?’
bubbling embarrassment boils into two red blots that splatter across the apples of her cheek , brows knotting at the center of her forehead . “ why does everybody keep asking me that ... " head hung low , pandora sighs in distress . it’s the third time this week & it was most certainly , not a charm . “ i’m not a tall child ---- i’m perfectly grown . ” she begrudgingly protests , unsure of just how true that feels right then , fumbling with her bag until something plasticized nips at her fingers . “ see? ”
bontempsboy.
|
René closed his fist around the ring as she approached. “Why?” he questioned defensively, already more than a pitcher into his drinking. His gaze unconsciously searches her neck, hidden by her hair. “You can have a drink from my pitcher, but you have to find ya own mug, you,” he offered instead.
Usually, René was much kinder and put the front of a regular, nice man. However, his mood was sour. A party as humans died at the hand of vampires, vampires in attendance and humans being auctioned to them… Everything was wrong. He could barely keep the bear jumping on the trampoline—the image that was constantly in his mind since rumors about Sookie Stackhouse being able to read them had been circulating since he’d gotten to town.
the pitcher ! she hadn’t spotted that yet , she was too focused on the task at hand , but now that she notices , it was quite large ----- was he planning on drinking everything ? pandora refrains from asking aloud to instead offer an apologetic simper in turn . “ oh , that’s okay ... thank you ------- but i really shouldn’t , " everything is so beautiful --- so dazzling tonight , but she can’t forget how small and insignificant she is in the grand scheme of things : just another speckle of dust in an universe of giants . it did feel good , though , to be here , stealing little moments from this extraordinary universe that unfolds before her . “ it’s really crowded in here tonight --- gotta keep my wits about me , right? and a taser ... probably . ”
“ where was i? oh , that’s right --- i was talking about that spider on your shoulder , ” pandora points with an eerie causality , cheery notes not wavering as she proceeds to make her case . “ you don’t mind if i put her outside , do you? she might get trampled in here --- ”
thiehf.
[…]
Bela has rehearsed this many times before. She plays the part of a whole woman quite easily. There are no pieces missing, no organs that stink too much of her bloodline, no hair color the same as her father’s, no teeth as sharp as a wolf’s. At first, she wanted to be softer, smaller, less adept to noise and space. Instead she began to lug around a large stomach. A belly that had three heads and ten mouths. An angry little thing that only wanted to eat and swallow. This is to be expected with girlhood is not girlhood, but a field with dead poppies and a shovel. One must learn to bury themselves, or be the one digging up the body. She was always talented in deciding to protect her throat over anyone else’s. The smile is wide and sleek, a professionalism to her lies that allows a shroud of poised elegance to cover her movements. ‘Every chance I have at buying a beautiful woman a gift I take. Call it my need to please.’ Charisma oozes, sugared syllables lilting her tongue as she slinks closer. Fingers drop the moonstone back into her clutch and snaps it shut. Hand reaching out gently as she lets her palm rest just along the other’s forearm, touch light and airy. She matches the tone, tilts her head with a childlike curiosity and murmurs out the beginning of an alliance. ‘I think[…]you and I will become great friends. I’m Bela.’
she herself is a haunted house : and in her ruins , death takes root , making itself a home out of scrawny bones and pale flesh . it shrouds her in its shadow , tall and lanky , always looming above her head . it occurs to her then , she had never made a habit of staring into mirrors . she had never paused and stared at her own reflection , perhaps out of fear of what might stare back through the looking glass . “ you think i’m beautiful? " pandora could not remember the last time she caught a glimpse of herself , and saw anything other than rot . anything other the decaying corpse of a girl in shambles , that somehow still stands on two wobbly knees . she’d never been beautiful .
" i’m ----- pandora . sorry about ------ i didn’t mean to pry , i just ... ” have a problem with inside thoughts ? and articulating , it seems . “ yeah. ” sudden touching will often provoke flashes of intrusive thoughts ------ but she doesn’t want to see , she doesn’t want to hear the cacophony of whispers that fill her head . making friends has never been an easy task , not then , not now -------- forgive a girl for being willfully blind .
cohmpton.
[…]
While being a man of little words, Bill especially doesn’t speak about the wars he’s been a part of. What use is it to bring light to the deaths that one would stumble upon every inch or so in the trenches? The bodies of men stacked up like old mattresses, the stench of the blood and the putrid body. The decay that stays with oneself decades later. He still feels strange inside this shell, still feels as though he’s missing something useful. He observes her reaction with an otherworldly expression, dazed as though in a dream-like state. Although, he’s always like that, isn’t he? Always half-awake, half-present. A hummed out grunt of agreement, before he blinks away that intrigue. Offers up a mildly genuine smile, ‘Didn’t think a beautiful woman needed to hold somethin’ so full of painful memories. They tend to be sharper than a knife at times, y’understand?’ Mumbled out without a second though, gaze broken as he glances down to fumble through his blazer pocket for a cigarette pack. ‘I don’t much believe in luck, miss. D’you?’
beyond them extends a sea of dazzling lights and bubbly liquor , spilling on floor with the chimes of laughter and hushed gossip . she’d promised herself she’d partake in it , and yet here she is --- sheltered in the shadows of anonymity , entwining her fingers with grief like a lover . she’d always been just one half in this world , half lost somewhere in the cosmos , searching aimlessly through space for a place to rest , dreaming of things far out of reach . “ i understand ... pain is complicated and personal . it’s hard to share . ‘m not really any better at that . " she knots her brows keenly , as if focusing on a complicated puzzle --- and takes a moment of silence to ponder upon his inquiry . she’d never had trouble believing : be it in far-fetched and impossible things , or the simplest , quiet things others would give up on too soon , and while many would undoubtedly see it as a weakness , she never had . “ i think ... i believe in everything . yeah ----- just a little bit of everything . the universe feels a lot more full that way . ” full of wonder , and mystique , and infinite possibilities .
closed starter for : @kitsuhne
after the sharp noise , everything had faded into a swirl of darkness in midst the darkness . consciousness returns in broken pieces , and a feeling of emptiness overwhelms that bird-boned body of hers , as if her soul had been ripped & stitched back together . “ i’m sorry ---- i’m sorry , " she’s mumbling as she comes to , hazy mocha eyes struggling to open through the thick veil of slumber , hands clutching tightly to whatever solid thing they can grab . “ i don’t know ... what did i say? ”
closed starter for : @alpha-as-hale
she feels every affliction of her hummingbird heart , trashing violently and ceaselessly against its bony cell , seeking a way out of confinement . she feels utterly helpless there : down on the floor , red knees aching & scrapped from the fall , palms splayed against the floor to hold her torso upright , and eyes impossibly wide with fright . “ ---- stop, stop ! " her demands sound more like pleas through labored breaths that flow in rapid succession . “ d-don’t come any closer - ”
closed starter for : @divinatio
there’s so much death dripping off their shoulders . what’s going on ? why now ? has she lost her mind ? this crippling torpor spreads through her bones like rust , and whatever feeble grip on reality she’d clung to all her life , loosens by the second ; this is enough to drive anyone mad . faces become lost in this cluster of weary-eyed apparitions , and so a trembling hand reaches , desperate for anything tangible to touch . “ are you real? ”
closed starter for : @halfichors
she doesn’t think before she sprints , out of her little hiding corner , and straight into buffy . the full force of the collision isn’t even enough to make the slayer stagger backwards . “ buffy ! you’re really here . you’re here ... ” overflowing with relief , she’s finally able to release that breath that’d been held captive in her lungs for too long - it comes out shaky and loaded . “ i thought i was going crazy ... everything was fine and then --- then ... ” then they were everywhere , and it felt like her head was about to explode . “ are you okay? did you get hurt?? ”
closed starter for : @moonaed
" i can’t tell anymore ... what’s real and what’s - “ even now , in the sanctuary of his company : all she can see two tall shadows looming above him , talons like smoke wrapped right around his shoulder , the embers of their eyes forever burning . “ i think i’m losing my mind , ” pandora stifles a guilt-ridden sob , averting her teary gaze down to the dirt-stomped ground . “ do you have to go? ” touch laced to desperation , her dainty hands clutch to his forearm with unusual ferocity , clawing at the piece of fabric that coils between the gaps of her fingers . “ don’t go . you’ll get hurt ... please . “
@moonaed asked : ∗ o5 from callan ﹕ sender comforts receiver in the aftermath of a nightmare .
“ this is silly , ” she sniffles , salty cheeks pressed to his shoulder , hazy eyes downcast with mourning dew and somber thoughts . she feels so impossibly heavy then : a pouch of rocks nestled safely within the comfort of his back-pocket as the tide rises . she doesn’t want him to drown ---- but she doesn’t want to be left to be remember and forgotten , and remember and forgotten , alone in this depthless blue . “ i’m okay , i’m okay ... i promise , ” a hand / ghostly fingers crawl along uncharted skin , to paint itself with closeness against the unkind edges of his jaw . “ i just ... i’m really glad you’re here. ”
@cohmpton asked : ∗ 52﹕ sender takes a [ punch / stab / bullet ] meant for receiver . ( from bill ! )
“ why - ! ” a wisp of gratitude can be dug up from the bony remains of dread ; her vocals strain ----- failing victim to this torpid helplessness before a full sentence can be formed . trembling with terror , her body melts into the ground like warm honey next to him , trusting intimacy at the hands of strangers , begging for death to keep at bay just another day . her paper hands fold themselves over the gaping wound , moon - eyes wide and filled with unbottled despair as red trains down the gaps of damp fingers . “ why ! why did you do that ?! ” her grief has be swallowed by a thunder of frustration , and if she could smack him and be unburdened of guilt , she would’ve done it until her knuckles turned white . “ i told you not to move ! ”
grittedgeorgiana.
it was a fairly busy night at merlotte’s given it was the middle of the week. when it got busy like that, georgie had grown to expect trouble of some sort. for the most part, she enjoyed the customers. most were locals - people she’d known her entire life. but even then, you get enough liquor in somebody and you never knew what they’d do. and sure enough…
now, georgiana didn’t take kindly to rudeness of any sort. however, you throw in some entitlement mixed with sexism and you got yourself an angry, southern medium. some fella had wandered in with a buddy of his and apparently had grown tired of waiting at the bar as georgiana helped other patrons. “damn, if this bitch didn’t have titties like that, i’d’ve left already.” and, without missing a beat, georgiana was across the bar, glass beer bottle in hand before it went crashing against the man’s skull, sending him to the dirty ground. face twisted up, georgiana turned back around, disregarding the silence that ensued as people stretched their necks to get a look at the commotion. then, georgie caught the eyes of someone else sat at her bar. “there somethin’ you want er are you wantin’ to join him?”
-
her entire body hops off its seat to the sound of a c r a s h ! glass shattering against someone’s hard skull . she freezes ----- her ear hadn’t actually picked up any of the conversation , so what follows is pure shock ---- these places can be incredibly loud , which is why she avoids venturing out in public most of the time . she’s happy to stay within the confinements of her home , where it’s warm and safe , and nobody throws chairs across the room in a burst of rage .
“ i can’t believe you really did that ... ” pandora mumbles , strirring her digits in her lap as a self-soothing gesture , desperately trying to pace her erratic breathing back into a slow rhytim . “ no ! no , no ... i didn’t do anything . ” she’s quick to retort , wishing she’d never stared to begin with --- recoiling into herself : a cocoon of insecurity . those hands had only ever known how to be gentle , she wouldn’t know how to defend herself if she wanted to .
cohmpton.
[…]
It wasn’t the first time he’d been in the mud, remember. Bill had personally grown the blood inside of him and he had made sure it was chilled enough to pool out without harming his lifespan. The beast only lets out a soft grunt, a tuneless groan as he lays his back in the dirt. He’s enjoying the rain as it seeps into his fabric, leaves his overcoat soaked and brimming with a pink haze of his blood. Yes, this old body still knows how to die. Slowly too. Like a goddamn steam engine chugging to a final stop. The bullet is only dead weight, unfortunately, and he will wake tomorrow morning like he always does: listlessly mid-prayer, slightly broken, hollowed out and sagging. He shifts subtly, brings an elbow up to lean against. Bright eyes taking a glance down at the blooming wound. It was beautifully human, he supposes, to still look as fragile as any other ghost. The flesh will heal quickly, but the pain remains solidly profound amid the ache and tug of his torn skin. Hand brushes back his hair, wet and dripping from the weather. He glances around them, suspicious of where the bullet came from. It’s off-season for hunting, but they linger on lawless grounds. ‘Not your time, miss. Not your time.’ Barely a mumble of a response, chin working in a half-circle as he glances her over fully. Shameless in the way he observes that quaint view of panic in her eyes. Human to the very root. Not a god like him, certainly not something that is resurrected annually like a desperate cornstalk before June’s dry heat hits. Palm reaches down to rest against her own, the stickiness of his unnatural blood coating her knuckles. ‘I’ve died many times before[…]y’can’t worry yourself sick for me. It’ll heal.’
pandora has always loved storms ; how primordial and unrelenting they are --- a beginning , an end . everything in between . there is no reason , no meaning , there is only water / the skies crack open and weep and make the earth shake so it understands its grief , and never once does it plea for forgiveness . she doesn’t flinch away from its cold embrace , she lets herself be swallowed by it . she is a girl made of dark corners and strange turns . she is a girl full of heartache and poetry , loved most by the things others fear . she has entwined her fingers with death , and it left her with a tender kiss , always lingering , hanging by a promise to return . “ it’s a little late for that ... should’ve thought to ask before you jumped in front of a bullet . ” in her raincoated body , flickering like a butterfly — a black witch moth , she hovers above bill’s weary body , completely drenched , as if waiting for an invitation . she’s so wet that it’s as if wetness seems to be her only response: dewy lashes blinking rapidly , torpidness spreading through her fingertips . she touches to remind herself herself she is still here , and lets herself be comforted by his gentle candor , his steadying grip , and forget about the blood washes away between her thighs . “ you make a habit of this ...? ---- holding a girl’s hand while you die ? ” cold water trickles down the tip of long lashes like cream in a fox’s tongue , down to her button nose , and the sweet cherry apples of her cheeks . “ there’s easier way to get someone’s attention , you know? ” a wintry breeze whistles past the heavy pitter-patter of rain against pavement and she stifles a laughter between chattering teeth , still it echoes down those lonely streets : a feeble attempt to soothe his ill temper , a flower of torn empathy that’d sprouted , against reason and hope , through this concrete jungle .
closed starter for : @confidcnces
" oooh , oh --- i can help with that ! " she practically leaps off her seat , body giddy with an overflowing wave of excitement that threatens to spill . she immediatly clears her throat , making a shallow attempt to cease the stirring of digits by smoothing down the crinkles in her newly sewn summerdress . “ ------ sorry . that sounds so morbid ... i just got excited, ” her bashful gaze seeks refugee on the ground . “ i never get to help. ”
closed starter for : @apirot
" is that ... real ? " she slowly but surely crawls closer and closer , wide mocha - eyes swiling with effervecent wonder ; caught in something of a trance , her sturdy legs unfold & carry forth with a will of their own , though a shadow of fear doesn’t trail too far behind those cautious , mousy steps . “ ------ it’s so pretty ... ”
closed starter for : @bontempsboy
" what? ... no . what? i’m ... peachy . it’s just ... " he caught her off guard ---- and that uneasy feeling spreads like rust throughout her body . pandora doesn’t mean to stare but she does ; that burrowing stare that beckons men into corners , as if staring past the skin and the bone , straight into that stain : that damned stain . that stain of blood they try so hard to scrub off their hands , but try as they might , it can never be cleansed by water . that figure hunched over his shoulder has becames more and more restless , less and less unwilling to be silenced : it unhinges its maw , begging to be heard . “ rené ... do you believe in ghosts? ”
closed starter for: @harvehlle
❛ oh — that . don’t worry , he was being inappropriate … so i knocked him out with that shovel and left him outside . ❜ she's feverishly taking notes , moon - eyes glazed with amazement . how wonderful she is — like a force of nature . ❛ wow ... you’re like —– amazing … can you teach me how to do that ? ❜
bontempsboy.
|
It was the spider lady. She’d been quite nice—the unhappy moments before his world crumbled causing his encounter with her to be the best part of that dreadful night. As he’d approach her to say hello and maybe walk with her for a few blocks. Instead, after a greeting, he lost her. For a moment, René even worried that he’d have to call an ambulance as she seemed utterly out of it while standing right across from him.
However, as he began to dig in his pocket for his phone, Pandora spoke. “Could’ve fooled me, you,” he sighed, his heart racing as his panic morphed into irritation. “Stop lookin’ at me like that… We should take you to see a doctor, yah?” There’s nothing but silence and her stare—one that made him think of a short story he’d read long before by Edgar Allan Poe. He now understood why the main character killed the old man. “Ghosts?” her question freaks him out as much as her behavior.
“My mama always said we should fear the livin’, not the dead.” To her credit, she didn’t know about vampires. “I don’t. Let’s get you to the hospital, yah? Ya blood sugar might be low or… somethin’.”
“ i’m sorry . i don’t want to scare you . i never want to scare anyone ... ” she is a pale sheet dancing in the dark , calling for vanished faces. her voice a murmur of wind carried by the clouds , her eyes sweet and subtle , weary and sleepy ; crowned by amtheyst . they are cast low and averted from the havens , anchored to the soil below .
her tiny fists clench like a vice , furling and unfurling into her palm , and her heart , though meek , stomps like a giant in its cursed temple . " no , no ... i hate hospitals . they’re too loud . ” too loud . all that screamig , wailing ------ it feels like a wolf tearing into her : that agony overflowing from lost souls , cracking their nails bloodied trying to climb back through the veil . just the thought alone makes her stomach churn .
wherever there is grief she is sure to follow , sleepless from suffering . she will stand besides a queen , and hold her hand as they travel through the valley of shadows , just as she'll stand beside a beggar who yearns for the light . death does not discriminate , so neither can she . they are all children through its hollowed eyes . “ listen ... there’s someone standing beside you . ” she whispers through a thousand voices scratching at her throat , dark mane spilling over the ghastly canvas of her face like black ink . “ she’s very angry with you . she can’t let go . she wants to ... but you did something very bad , and she can’t let go . ”