prey.to the {monsters} in my__head

[Nehi Cariño]

N E H I
→ s a v e . m e

It was cold and dark and she could barely see the trees that were looming before her, waiting to scratch her already dirty face, reaching towards her running form as if to snatch away the last shred of sanity that was left among all of this fear. It wasn't logical, but fear never was; her heart was beating so hard it threatened to burst from her chest and her bare feet were pushing her off of the ground just as soon as they touched it. Her too-small dress ripped when one of those claw-like branches caught it, though if the girl noticed she did not seem to care.

She couldn't shake the feeling of someone chasing her, of being pursued. She couldn't make this feeling of absolute dread go away, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to run fast enough that it left her alone. Her breath came in ragged pants when she finally stopped, her entire body trembling from exertion and that same, unfocused terror that gripped her so tightly, making it hard to breathe, much less start running again. Something damp trickled down her side and she couldn't see far enough in front of her to know what it was by sight, but the warm, thick, slightly metallic scent told her exactly what it was.

Nehi sank to her knees, doubling over as she fought to breathe correctly, and tried to ignore the pain and nausea that each breath now caused. Her eyes grew determined as she convinced herself that, had there been something chasing after her, it would have pounced when she had stopped. Her arms wrapped around her stomach as she fought back the need to gag, and after a moment, she rose to her feet, placing one hand down on the slightly damp ground to steady herself as the world rocked beneath her unsteady feet.

Taking a moment to regain her balance, she started walking once more, following some unseen thread that guided her onward. It was too dark for her to see well, but her eyes were slowly beginning to focus now that she wasn't scared out of her mind, and though her breath still came in pants, she didn't seem at all afraid, even if a lingering sense of uneasiness still made her glance back on occasion. One slightly dirty hand pushed her hair behind her ear and she pressed her lips together, making them into a thin line on a face flushed with exertion.

The girl was a stranger here and her introduction to what was likely a beautiful bunch of trees was nothing less than the stuff ghost stories were made of - a young girl, running alone through the woods on a mostly moonless night. Her skin crawled at the idea of how one of those stories would be, if she were in it, though after thinking on that for a bit she couldn't help but chuckle. Knowing herself as she did, she'd probably try and make friends with whatever strange being was coming after her, probably ending up dead or worse, though the thought of actually making a friend had her biting her lip and walking faster. She was alone for a reason, she was sure of it. So why would someone who wasn't even wanted in the place she was born find a home anywhere else?

It wasn't too long before she found a tree with branches low enough for her to climb up into, not seeming to care that she would have given a bit of a 'show' to anyone who happened by while she was making her way up into the branches. Finally, the girl lay down on one, her arms and legs hanging off of the sides as the rough bark pressed into her stomach and she let her eyes drift close, letting her mind wander until, finally, she wasn't thinking of anything at all and sleep had claimed another victim.

this song is by Nehi Cariño
it is sung to everyone
the singer is tired
it has 673 words
the public thinks this isn't too bad. I mean, it could have been longer, but I don't know what I want to do with her, so... it isn't.

[Monet Oriel]

MONET
//tell me pretty lies

The night time was the most peaceful time of day for him. The cool air was enough to send goose pimples down his back but he was wearing no jacket and a simple undershirt so it was not fair to blame the wind. His newer beige jacket was draped over his neck like a scarf and his well defined muscled glinted dimly with a hint of sweat. He had been running, not from monsters or shadows, but just to run. He remembered far back when his mother had first told him that just running for pleasure still was proof that you were running from something. You just didn't know what you were running from yet. His grandmother had been a superstitious old woman anyways. Indian folklore and such.

Yes, though Monet wasn't as much a foreigner as many, being born in France, he did have a particular look about him. His skin was always a mite browner and darker as was his hair and eyes. His grandparents had been from New Delhi in India and had made the voyage to France. He spoke Indian and French and never felt quite at home. He had once wished desperately that he had looked more French than Indian but of course that never came true. And he learned to finally accept who he was. Or did he? Perhaps his grandmother had been right. He was running from something, his past perhaps? His very legend? He didn't know for sure.

Monet laughed softly and shook his head. The nighttime was affecting his mind for sure. It was all superstition and fairytale! But hadn't everything else been for so long? The thought sobered him and he continued walking. Out of nowhere it seemed, a girl flew through the woods, running from something it seemed and Monet stopped dead in his tracks turning swiftly to catch whatever was chasing her. Was it a man? An animal? Or was it... Garou? He didn't detect any trace of Garou in the air and with that in mind, he braced to fight whatever was coming in his direction. And he waited. After a minute or so and nothing happened, Monet frowned and looked out into the woods. He saw nothing and his vision was incredibly good. Whatever had been chasing the girl was obviously there no longer.

Monet straightened up, still glancing warily back down the way and walked in the direction the girl had run. He knew where she was, he could see her panicking in the distance as the trees grabbed and ripped her dress, as if trying to hold her back. A swell of compassion filled Monet's heart and he stood silently in the shadows as she sank to her knees, trying to catch her breath. She was in poor condition, so ragged that Monet wondered if she was a peasant girl. She was in pain. Monet took an unsure step forward, wanting to run to her, hold her until she was calm and ask what had terrified her so. She looked like a young thing and Monet saw his daughters in her. She stood up and continued walking and Monet stayed a safe distance behind.

He watched her climb into the trees and turned his head away gentlemanly when she gave away too much. She was exhausted and who wouldn't be? After that run, anyone would be sacked. He moved forward cautiously, quietly, like the wind and approached the tree where the girl was sleeping. He was astounded by the exotic beauty of the girl. She was young and yet so obviously foreign. How had she come to France? From her features he guessed Spain. She was dirty and damaged and Monet felt such a rush of tenderness that her draped his jacket across her sleeping figure to help ward off any chill.

He would wait until she awoke. He sat on the ground, aganist the tree, humming softly under his breath.

---

the actor is MONET LUCIEN ORIEL
for the express viewing of NEHI CARINO
his mind is COMPASSIONATE AND CONTENT
and he has spoken a grand 738 words
with additional notations: A good post I think. Luffles Nehi.

[Nehi Cariño]

N E H I
→ s a v e . m e

Something was pressing against her, keeping the slight chill that always troubled her when she slept outside at bay. Instinctively trying to move closer to the warmth, she curled her hands up to her cheek, an action that set her just off balance enough that the girl woke with a slight gasp, her earlier fears clear in her eyes as she glanced around. Finally, she sat up, her legs hugging the branch, and reached back to touch the jacket that had appeared so mysteriously. A look of complete confusion flickered across her face until she heard the humming.

As she noticed the sound, Nehi's head snapped towards it, her eyes like those of a frightened animal. There was a stranger there, a man... and he was alone. That knowledge sent a faint tremor through her thin frame, coupled with the feeling of dread she had worked so hard to dispel. He had been kind, giving her his jacket, but he wasn't female and so she couldn't quite trust him. "Who... who are you?" she asked quietly, all of her fear and exhaustion condensed into those few, trembling words. Her body seemed to shrink in on itself for a moment as she curled up, making a visible effort to calm down. After a few slow breaths, she lay down once more, watching him curiously, her eyes still retaining some shadow of the apprehension she couldn't help but feel.

Even though she was still pretty nervous, she forced herself to concentrate on studying the figure before her, thankful for the small amount of light that had managed to break through the clouds and trees. He was, as she had already discovered, a male, older than she was, and... sitting there. She couldn't really find it in her to be scared of someone who was doing something so harmless as humming while he rested against a tree, much less after giving her his jacket, but at the same time, she could only bite her lip and shiver once more at the thought of what he might have been trying to do, what he might still do... What were his intentions? Why would he be so kind to a stranger of such obviously low standing?

With a sigh, she hugged the branch and slid her legs off, letting go just as they swung down and landing in a crouched position, the jacket still somehow covering her shoulders, with her hands in front of her and her face pointed at him, her straight, dark hair falling all over. The girl brought one hand up to her face, pushing most of it behind her ears and staring at him cautiously. She did not know this man, she was not sure she could trust him, but everything in her told her that she should trust anyone who might be able to help her. With a faint shake of her head to clear her thoughts, she pursed her lips lightly and tried speaking again, her throat still somewhat sore from her recent fright, "I... I am Nehi," she touched her chest with her fingers and tilted her head at him, smiling shyly. It had been a while since she had talked to anyone, but she was willing to put the peace of silence behind her if it meant getting answers, or even getting pointed to a new town. She rather needed food, a fact that she only truly realized as her stomach gave a slight grumble, complaining its lack of contents. Nehi could only blush faintly, looking down and brushing an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. She, a street rat, was hardly worthy to be in the company of anyone like this. He had shown her kindness, what could she have possibly given him?

Despite her belly's obvious assertions to the contrary, she didn't feel hungry. Possibly it was from so long without much food or maybe just because the unusual amount of exercise had caused an unpleasant, ill feeling to surface. Whatever the reason, she was only sure that her stomach had betrayed her to this new person. Even if she was just a peasant, she didn't need to remind him of that... she would rather have been left to her frightened anonymity than have to face the looks of pity that those of higher standing gave the pathetic bundle of skin and bones that would sit on their streets, singing and praying that some kind soul could spare a few francs, enough for her to buy some small bit of food, enough to last her until the next day, when she would sit out on the same street and do it again. Sometimes people wouldn't even sell her food, seeing how dirty she was, but sometimes they would give it to her for a reduced price, letting her save some small bit of her earnings until later, when the people were not nearly so generous and her stomach was threatening to eat itself for lack of other option.

She had not been in a town in quite some time, she realized with a slight frown. When had she last eaten? Save for the few berries she had managed to find, and a few apples she had taken from a tree along the way, Nehi realized that she had barely had anything for at least a week, if not longer. Her sense of time had begun to warp and, thinking back, she found it amazing that she hadn't fallen over while she was running or, worse, fallen out of the tree. Her hands shook and she looked at them, her lower lip caught between her surprisingly white teeth as she stared at her fingers, watching each as it trembled, unable to stop it. They were cold, she realized, but she couldn't really do much for that and let them be, returning her attention to the stranger, sitting down with her legs folded under her and resting her cold, shaky hands in her lap, watching him attentively.

this song is by Nehi Cariño
it is sung to Monet Oriel
the singer is apprehensive, slightly ashamed, and hungry
it has 1012 words
the public thinks They're both adorable! Too bad Nehi's such a confusing little spaz.

[Monet Oriel]

MONET
//tell me pretty lies

The night was cool and he was comfortable. His thoughts continually drifted to the girl in the tree and they drifted back to Emile and his daughters. How old would they be now? Cassidy would be eight...Carline seven. They were going to be beautiful. Monet fervently hoped they looked like their mother, she would be forever tormented by his memory if they looked like him. Vague memories shuffled through his lonely mind, images of Cassidy when she was two. Her hair was coming in a pale brown, like Emile's but her eyes were dark, dark as Monet's. Monet groaned internally at the memory. Emile would have to suffer that. The constant presence of Monet's eyes. He continued humming, changing the tune to a lullaby. The one he used to sing to Carline when she had nightmares and couldn't sleep. Emile would chide him, telling him that a one-year old didn't dream or have nightmares, but Monet ignored her. That had to be the reason for her constant unrest.

"She's just colicky." Emile said, rubbing Carrie's back gently, her eyes tired. Monet leaned aganist the wall, watching them. How beautiful she was! She was a perfect mother. "Are you sure?" He had asked, taking the child into his own strong arms, rocking her when she whimpered. "I always had nightmares when I was a babe." He concluded, humming gently to the keening infant. Her hair was coming in black, like his own, her eyes already green. Like Emile's. "Oh, tush!" Emile had mocked, rolling her eyes. "You honestly think infants dream? Or have nightmares! Ha." This had riled Monet some but he continued humming softly, sitting down in his hand-crafted rocking chair to sooth Carline. "You go off to bed love. I'll put Carrie down." Emile paused in the doorway and looked back at Monet, who was singing a nonsense lullaby in Carline's ear. Sure enough, the infant was settling down, falling asleep aganist his chest. Emile offered Monet a sad little smile and left, going off to bed. It was one of his better memories of life with Emile. Arguments happened often, but never in front of the children. It was part of his reason for leaving. He could never lose his temper with them.

She was awake. Monet glanced up at the tree and paused in his humming for a moment, noticing that the girl was now awake. A moment of guilt swept through him, he hadn't meant to wake her. "Who... who are you?" She asked, her voice full of fear, yet exhausted. He continued to sit, to show he meant no harm and smiled warmly back up her. She was pretty, if not exceptionally thin and obviously peasant-like. But being a peasant meant nothing to him. He was not prejudiced like so many other seemed to be, no he was friends with all kinds. After all, being a tutor meant he was to teach all kinds. Dawn was beginning to break through the clouds, it was still quite early, but the light allowed him to see her better and vice versa. He had been right about her ethnicity. Spanish, it seemed. But how did she come to learn French? She spoke it quite clearly, with no trace of misunderstanding in her words. A smart one, it seemed, was this girl.

He stood as she began to get out of the tree, mostly to offer assistance if she should need it. But she needed no assistance, she climbed out expertly, his jacket still keeping her warm. The sight did his heart good and he relaxed his posture, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. Monet had always had the talent of reading people and this girl was an open book. She was shy, fearful, mistrusting, but grateful to a degree. She didn't like him very much, but girls should always be wary of strangers, especially men. He didn't blame her. He was a slightly intimidating figure, tall, dark, taut with muscle. "I... I am Nehi," She said, pointing to herself. She was a street urchin, but lost, hungry (as he heard her stomach garble) and obviously kind. Her name most definitely asserted her foreignness and she was lucky he had found her. What could have happened to such a defenseless creature was horrible to think about. There were quite a few undesirables wandering the street and any one of them would have been ecstatic to "help this girl into town".

"My name is Monet Oriel," He said gently, gesturing to himself. He spoke clearly and softly, indicating that he was no threat. He reached into his pockets, there were a few francs that he had no use for. Perhaps she was in need. He decided he would find out, instead of potentially offending her by offering her money. "Are you new in town, Nehi?" His voice was bass and fatherly, politely curious and compassionate. He stuck his rough hands in his pockets, studying Nehi carefully. She was worn and travelweary, this much was obvious. How had she made her way to France? Was she running away from something? Someone? Did she need a place to stay? He could offer help, protection, but only if she would accept it. He wouldn't force her into anything. How old was she? By a measured guess, he would say sixteen to eighteen. It was harder to tell with a foreigner. She looked much to young to be out on her own at night anyways. Monet had become quite protective of young girls since he was a boy. When his sister was raped and became pregnant, he often chided girls for being out too late, giving examples of what could happen to them if they wandered too far from home. Unfortunately, he was labeled as dangerous and many girls stayed as far away from him as possible. Truth be told, he was not a dangerous person. Just trying to look out for everyone.

---

the actor is MONET LUCIEN ORIEL
for the express viewing of NEHI CARINO
his mind is CURIOUS, KIND, FRIENDLY
and he has spoken a grand 1090 words
with additional notations: Haha! Over 1000 words. Yay.

[Nehi Cariño]

N E H I
→ s a v e . m e

Monet... It didn't sound like the name of a murdering rapist. Though neither did the names of the village boys strike her as anything to fear. A name was, well, just a name. Looking at the man who called himself Monet and had given her his coat, she smiled, "It is very nice to meet you, señor." His question took her by surprise and she pressed her lips together and tilted her head slightly, "So there is a town around here. Which way is it, please?" Even in Spanish, her words often came out sounding slightly awkward. It wasn't because she hadn't learned the language - either language - she just... Nehi had an unusual way of speaking, was all.

Nothing he did made her feel that she should be turning and running away, but she had the nagging suspicion that he was acting the same way with her as one might a frightened horse. Stay calm, speak softly, keep away from the hooves or you'll get a kick. It brought a wry smile to her features, I cannot kick, señor. I am not that strong... It wasn't the happiest of thoughts, but when was it that she was truly happy? Running through a field of flowers, climbing up trees... she was free, but there was always something missing, something important. She didn't have anyone, so she was lonely.

Thinking back to the way he had been humming, and her face lit up, "You sounded very nice, señor, do you sing?" it was a blind grasp at something to talk about besides her own feeble appearance, but it was something at least. "You sounded very nice..." Her shy smile was a clear indication that she was hardly used to saying such kind things to others, though the fact that she wasn't used to saying anything to anyone else was truly the cause. She smoothed her dress quietly, pulling at the fabric as if that could bring it past her knees, and slid his jacket off of her, holding it out for him to take back. She couldn't keep it, it was written in her eyes. She couldn't keep it because that meant that she would have something that was not hers and there was no real way for her to offer to return it. The sun was coming out, slowly but surely, and she would warm up soon enough.

Her hands clutched at each other as she shifted her position slightly, making sure that her legs kept their circulation. Her original surprise gone, she was full of a cautious curiosity. He hadn't tried anything yet, why should she assume he would? Besides, he seemed full of things she didn't know, like... where a town was. That was something she could definitely have used.

this song is by Nehi Cariño
it is sung to Monet Oriel
the singer is confused and sorta wary
it has 475 words
the public thinks Igiveup T.T I cannot think right now. So... -pokes miniature post- I'll do better next time, I promise <3?