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 stories no books have the spine to carry

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moon
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Join date : 2011-02-16
Age : 19
Location : lost in the woods

PostSubject: stories no books have the spine to carry   Wed May 03, 2017 10:04 pm



moon's self paras
| idk how often i'll actually post to this, but if i do, you'll be the first to know.
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moon
Elite Writer
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Posts : 5595
Join date : 2011-02-16
Age : 19
Location : lost in the woods

PostSubject: Re: stories no books have the spine to carry   Wed May 03, 2017 10:42 pm



Faye McJean
| To an unfamiliar, fresh pair of eyes, the University of Minnesota's campus could be a never-ending maze of architecturally beautiful buildings and catcalls. Faye knew this for fact; she had experienced the very confusion her first few weeks of college. Deep, thundering male voices yelling their first thoughts of her was completely foreign to the demigod. Life at Camp Half Blood couldn't have prepared her for the deep-rooted horrors of the mundane world. No one would have questioned her authority in her safe haven. No one would have screamed to get her attention (unless it was to say hello, maybe, if it was a normal day).

Faye learned to adapt. She wore headphones, long coats and sneakers to class. Her pocketknife - courtesy of cabin nine - and pepper spray were always on her key chain, wrapped around her palms like brass knuckles. No one had touched her yet, and if she had it her way, no one ever would. The Athenian knew she could take half of the city's creeps with her battle training but nevertheless the fear inside her chest would persist. Maybe it would never truly go away.

There were other, more intimate fears that plagued the Civil Engineer's mind. Her flashbacks, while not as frequent, still loomed. Faye found that they were unpredictable. She could be sitting in chemistry, furiously scribbling notes about the pH of salt solutions, and be taken back to screaming and red. It was always red. The smell of rotting flesh in her nostrils, the sound of anguished cries and hysterical sobs, the feel of sharp metal against sensitive skin: it all came rushing back in a sea of panic. Faye sat in the back of her crowded lecture halls in case of moments like those. She would wake from her memories with white knuckles and fingernail-imprinted palms.

The examples could go on and on (the time she grabbed her lab partner, promising the girl she'd protect her from the monsters; the time she sprinted across the quad telling everyone to get inside; the time she woke her roommate to impossible questions about a James Carter), but the demigod tried to repress it all. Faye could pass her classes with ease, but she could had yet to manage finding a true friend. Everyone she spent too much time with found her increasingly odd and bothered. Beautiful and brilliant, but bothered. So she found a way around permanent friends by meeting everyone's acquaintance she could.

No one would know her well enough to hide from her, and no one could know her well enough to love her. It was a perfect formula.
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