Post by Morgana on Sept 16, 2008 22:02:10 GMT
Morgana shuffled round her stall, closing up the little wooden shutters and covering the whole thing with a giant sheet that she promptly tied to metal rings in the floor with sturdy knots. She had been lucky enough to purchase a house with the stall attached to its front. So much better than the free standing stalls in the middle of the market caught up in the centre of so much hustle and bustle. Customers never want to to hang about when they are being pushed and squashed from all angles. No, this was much better.
Morgana made her way into the old stone house, presented with an almost empty room were it not for an armchair and a fire place. She grimaces at the sight of it. There was no way to simultaneously feed her habit and pay the rent and also have a nice homely home. Things just didn't happen that way! She slumps into the chair, a fire springing to life in the hearth, dancing happily, swallowing up the cold and the dark.
---
The craving woke her around 4 am as it usually did, splitting her head and tightening her chest. Her long dark hair sticking to her neck and cheeks, completely drenched. The shaking was worse than ever as she attempts to stand on quivering legs, the pain blinding. She makes it to the kitchen at last, forcing her eyes to focus on finding a glass for some water, she had to soothe the burning in her throat. All the while, her hands searching mindlessly for the release, trembling over knives and bits of broken pottery. Morgana laughs, a short, sharp sound that stabs the silence.
"There's none here, you worthless, pointless soul" She whispers, the laughter edging her words. She raises long thin fingers to her lips, suppressing the maddening smile there. It had been 3 days since she had last allowed herself the soothing of her addiction. It wouldn't last, it never did, she could go for weeks, forcing the torture of withdrawal on herself only to stumble upon some hidden stash, or a friend who would 'help her out'. Not this time, no, she and house were clean this time...
Out in the tiny paved courtyard at the back of the house, a cat hissed scathingly at some creature Morgana couldn't quite recognise. She loathed animals and never saw the point in taking a liking to them. People need pets, to nurture and care for, But Morgana had never understood how it wasn't obvious to these people that their beloved animals are clearly in no need of them. Should the event for their internal instincts arise they would not hesitate in putting them to good use. Humans can teach animals nothing but the odd daft trick. Why on earth would they need that?
She sighs, lights up a cigarette, it took the edge off the craving but only just. The air was crisp with the threat of snow hanging heavy in the sky, veiling the Moon for yet another night, Morgana missed its presence. Theres was comfort in it's pale, cold light. She fights back a tremor of withdrawal... pulling her cardigan close around body and lingering on the sickly smoke of her cigarette... 2 more hours and she could open the stall again, to keep her mind busy for one more day. The closing hours were always hardest.
Morgana made her way into the old stone house, presented with an almost empty room were it not for an armchair and a fire place. She grimaces at the sight of it. There was no way to simultaneously feed her habit and pay the rent and also have a nice homely home. Things just didn't happen that way! She slumps into the chair, a fire springing to life in the hearth, dancing happily, swallowing up the cold and the dark.
---
The craving woke her around 4 am as it usually did, splitting her head and tightening her chest. Her long dark hair sticking to her neck and cheeks, completely drenched. The shaking was worse than ever as she attempts to stand on quivering legs, the pain blinding. She makes it to the kitchen at last, forcing her eyes to focus on finding a glass for some water, she had to soothe the burning in her throat. All the while, her hands searching mindlessly for the release, trembling over knives and bits of broken pottery. Morgana laughs, a short, sharp sound that stabs the silence.
"There's none here, you worthless, pointless soul" She whispers, the laughter edging her words. She raises long thin fingers to her lips, suppressing the maddening smile there. It had been 3 days since she had last allowed herself the soothing of her addiction. It wouldn't last, it never did, she could go for weeks, forcing the torture of withdrawal on herself only to stumble upon some hidden stash, or a friend who would 'help her out'. Not this time, no, she and house were clean this time...
Out in the tiny paved courtyard at the back of the house, a cat hissed scathingly at some creature Morgana couldn't quite recognise. She loathed animals and never saw the point in taking a liking to them. People need pets, to nurture and care for, But Morgana had never understood how it wasn't obvious to these people that their beloved animals are clearly in no need of them. Should the event for their internal instincts arise they would not hesitate in putting them to good use. Humans can teach animals nothing but the odd daft trick. Why on earth would they need that?
She sighs, lights up a cigarette, it took the edge off the craving but only just. The air was crisp with the threat of snow hanging heavy in the sky, veiling the Moon for yet another night, Morgana missed its presence. Theres was comfort in it's pale, cold light. She fights back a tremor of withdrawal... pulling her cardigan close around body and lingering on the sickly smoke of her cigarette... 2 more hours and she could open the stall again, to keep her mind busy for one more day. The closing hours were always hardest.