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tampered2006-09-15 09:56 pm
alessalearnt.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-09-15 09:56 pm
Log; Ongoing
When; Friday, September 15th, 9 PM
Rating; PG-13/R for graphic story-telling.
Characters; Alessa![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alessalearnt, Henry wisdom_rcvr, & Rukia x_cryptic_x
Summary; Alessa tells Rukia and Henry her story.
Log;
Alessa sat in one of the pews of the chapel, the book of William Shakespeare's Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark propped open in one hand. She read the words carefully, taking in the strange vocabulary slowly. The words themselves were beautiful, an art that she had never noticed before. The written word was enchanting her slowly but surely, and she found herself wanting to read more and more.
Candles illuminated the chapel, the priest gone to bed quite some time ago. He had not disturbed the young woman as she sat and read, and Alessa felt at peace in the silence. The man's evening prayers were beautiful to her ears, but silence, sweet silence, was the best. She shifted in her seat slightly, and glanced at the figure of Christ on the cross - the Thorned King she called him - and wondered why he was always in so much pain and agony all the time. She wondered if she would ever meet him; she could tell him that she knew how he felt.
Straightening up in her seat, Alessa marked her page as she heard the doors to the chapel opened. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, preparing herself for reliving the nightmarish hell that had been her life for the past twenty years.
Rating; PG-13/R for graphic story-telling.
Characters; Alessa
alessalearnt, Henry wisdom_rcvr, & Rukia x_cryptic_xSummary; Alessa tells Rukia and Henry her story.
Log;
Alessa sat in one of the pews of the chapel, the book of William Shakespeare's Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark propped open in one hand. She read the words carefully, taking in the strange vocabulary slowly. The words themselves were beautiful, an art that she had never noticed before. The written word was enchanting her slowly but surely, and she found herself wanting to read more and more.
Candles illuminated the chapel, the priest gone to bed quite some time ago. He had not disturbed the young woman as she sat and read, and Alessa felt at peace in the silence. The man's evening prayers were beautiful to her ears, but silence, sweet silence, was the best. She shifted in her seat slightly, and glanced at the figure of Christ on the cross - the Thorned King she called him - and wondered why he was always in so much pain and agony all the time. She wondered if she would ever meet him; she could tell him that she knew how he felt.
Straightening up in her seat, Alessa marked her page as she heard the doors to the chapel opened. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, preparing herself for reliving the nightmarish hell that had been her life for the past twenty years.