Post by anastasia dior illoive on Jun 18, 2023 23:53:30 GMT -5
 | anastasia dior illoive |
anastasia missed her apartment. it was a silly thing to miss right now, when there was so much more to mourn. entertainment, safety, people, order: all things that perhaps ought to occupy the forefront of her mind. but her heart longed to be curled up in window seat overlooking a london still brimming full with people, with life. being home in her apartment would mean this all had faded to embers. it would be reduced to a bad dream.
instead, she was shoved in the back corner of a safehouse somewhere in the countryside. this was safehouse number…six? seven? the places had blended together as the months dragged on. each time they moved it was at great risk – but it was almost more dangerous to stay in one place. silence too long wound nerves far quicker than what had become ambiance in crumbling buildings and conflict.
there wasn’t much to do in places like this but wait. when the collapse first began, ana had been adamantly against being confined to a safehouse. some of them were nice enough, and the people were an eclectic group of kind souls to match, but it still felt like imprisonment. to so sever herself from society meant leaving it all behind: the good and the bad, the memories and the hope of return to life past. if it were not for roman’s death back when it all began, she likely would not have swallowed her pride and went. her other brother’s pleas and her own fear following the loss were what sent her away from all she’d ever known.
today was supposed to have been like all the rest. inane and repetitive. simple. anastasia had spent the first half crocheting with her back against the wall, watching children scurry about and volunteers pass out supplies. then, an exhausted looking 20-something had cautiously approached her. she didn’t think anything of it until he was quietly kneeling in front of her and telling her the tale of a mission gone terribly awry, of a surprise attack told many times before. and just like that, she was alone. her other brother snatched away from her, after surviving this long and making it this far.
she was inconsolable. nothing helped. not the blankets offered by others, not the small trinkets from worried kids, not even the matronly hug that enveloped her at one point. anastasia didn’t often feel numbness, so instead she was stuck in a cycle of hurt: gasping sobs followed by periods of quiet tears and then back again.
they were both gone. she’d never hear their laughter again or the way their voices would pitch up when they were nervous. she’d even deal with the concerned looks that used to make her want to sink into the mantle of the earth over this. anything over this.
anastasia fell into another fit of sobs as she pushed her head between her knees.
instead, she was shoved in the back corner of a safehouse somewhere in the countryside. this was safehouse number…six? seven? the places had blended together as the months dragged on. each time they moved it was at great risk – but it was almost more dangerous to stay in one place. silence too long wound nerves far quicker than what had become ambiance in crumbling buildings and conflict.
there wasn’t much to do in places like this but wait. when the collapse first began, ana had been adamantly against being confined to a safehouse. some of them were nice enough, and the people were an eclectic group of kind souls to match, but it still felt like imprisonment. to so sever herself from society meant leaving it all behind: the good and the bad, the memories and the hope of return to life past. if it were not for roman’s death back when it all began, she likely would not have swallowed her pride and went. her other brother’s pleas and her own fear following the loss were what sent her away from all she’d ever known.
today was supposed to have been like all the rest. inane and repetitive. simple. anastasia had spent the first half crocheting with her back against the wall, watching children scurry about and volunteers pass out supplies. then, an exhausted looking 20-something had cautiously approached her. she didn’t think anything of it until he was quietly kneeling in front of her and telling her the tale of a mission gone terribly awry, of a surprise attack told many times before. and just like that, she was alone. her other brother snatched away from her, after surviving this long and making it this far.
she was inconsolable. nothing helped. not the blankets offered by others, not the small trinkets from worried kids, not even the matronly hug that enveloped her at one point. anastasia didn’t often feel numbness, so instead she was stuck in a cycle of hurt: gasping sobs followed by periods of quiet tears and then back again.
they were both gone. she’d never hear their laughter again or the way their voices would pitch up when they were nervous. she’d even deal with the concerned looks that used to make her want to sink into the mantle of the earth over this. anything over this.
anastasia fell into another fit of sobs as she pushed her head between her knees.
(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE