Post by GALATEA on Nov 1, 2014 23:19:41 GMT -6
galatea
AGE
seventeen. OCCUPATION
seamstress.GROUP
citizen.DRAGON
black, green, blue.personality
positive: devoted, attentive, generous, polite, tolerant, selfless, optimistic.
negative: reticent, dependent, insecure, indecisive, unfocused, shy, fearful.
negative: reticent, dependent, insecure, indecisive, unfocused, shy, fearful.
history
when you open your eyes (eye), you are alone save for the muck clinging to your body. there is iron on your tongue and a stickiness on your hands, your head, and --
-- and oh, how it hurts. you sleep once more.
the second time, you are greeted by an old man with bright eyes and a friendly smile. he doesn't speak -- he can't speak, you realize later -- but your head doesn't hurt quite so much anymore. there's a strange weight on your skull and an uncomfortable pressure on your left eye, but it doesn't hurt.
he teaches you as best he can and you help him -- cleaning up the workshop, making sure the forges are in order, mending ratty clothes. years pass this way. you and your protector are a unit of two, barely scraping by in the dirtiest parts of woodkeep. you are happy, as much as you know how to be.
then he's gone one day, lost to the raging heat of the forges, and you start over with almost nothing. no name; no family -- but you are alive, at least, and you understand that perhaps you might not have nothing after all. and you remember a story about a statue so beautiful she comes to life -- a story that kind man had been fond of -- so you take her name, if only in memory of him.
eventually, you find work in clothesmaking; you are put in the back room, furthest from the door because your bandages and dented helmet are unsightly at best, but it's all right.
you'll be fine.
-- and oh, how it hurts. you sleep once more.
(where are you? who are you?)
the second time, you are greeted by an old man with bright eyes and a friendly smile. he doesn't speak -- he can't speak, you realize later -- but your head doesn't hurt quite so much anymore. there's a strange weight on your skull and an uncomfortable pressure on your left eye, but it doesn't hurt.
he teaches you as best he can and you help him -- cleaning up the workshop, making sure the forges are in order, mending ratty clothes. years pass this way. you and your protector are a unit of two, barely scraping by in the dirtiest parts of woodkeep. you are happy, as much as you know how to be.
then he's gone one day, lost to the raging heat of the forges, and you start over with almost nothing. no name; no family -- but you are alive, at least, and you understand that perhaps you might not have nothing after all. and you remember a story about a statue so beautiful she comes to life -- a story that kind man had been fond of -- so you take her name, if only in memory of him.
eventually, you find work in clothesmaking; you are put in the back room, furthest from the door because your bandages and dented helmet are unsightly at best, but it's all right.
you'll be fine.
(you hope.)
WRITER
mist[b]D. GRAY-MAN, lala[/b] as @galatea
coded by electric of gangnam style