12-10-2020, 07:13 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]tw. mention of past death & gore
His mama was a vague memory.
How harrowing was it to realise that one day you’d forget the colour of their eyes? Teddy couldn’t remember if they were green or blue. Or the sound of their voice — the same voice that’d sing the young boy Teddy Knope to sleep in the night. All of the childhood memories that had since become hazy; he’d only been eleven years old when his mother had died a tragic death. Even to this day, Teddy hadn’t quite accepted the torment his mama must have gone through when she was murdered.
Micah had tried his best to cover his little brother’s eyes when Teddy had been the first to stumble upon the mangled corpse of their mother. On that wretched day, Teddy could remember the way his eyes felt like sandpaper with how he sobbed relentlessly, and the way Papa seemed to only respond to his wife’s death with a stone-cold stoicism as he remained as aloof and detached from his children as always. Papa hurt, not with as much grief as guilt, but Teddy would never be the one to fully acknowledge that as reality. Instead of sympathising, Teddy would only feel resentment that his father hadn’t done more to keep mama safe in the first place.
The young European girl was crying, Teddy had come to notice as he saw Salem standing nearby as a silent pillar of strength if the girl wished to accept it. Whilst that was an honourable thing to do for sure, Teddy could never be one to stand around waiting for an opportunity to crop up. If he wanted to do something, then he’d invent the opportunity himself. Walking over to stand beside Salem, he looked towards Salem before turning his head to look towards Max.
❝ Why did you leave your country? ❞ He tipped his chin up as his curious eyes searched the girl’s face. Not so sympathetic, but he had a feeling he was onto something. Ever since she’d arrived with her two siblings, it seemed as if they had brought enough emotional baggage along with them from Russia. Teddy wouldn’t often make assumptions, but he could only guess that there ought to be a correlation between their arrival in The Badlands and them leaving in the first place. Maybe he wasn't so sympathetic, but perhaps talking about what had happened would be the best for her. Teddy wasn't completely heartless.
His mama was a vague memory.
How harrowing was it to realise that one day you’d forget the colour of their eyes? Teddy couldn’t remember if they were green or blue. Or the sound of their voice — the same voice that’d sing the young boy Teddy Knope to sleep in the night. All of the childhood memories that had since become hazy; he’d only been eleven years old when his mother had died a tragic death. Even to this day, Teddy hadn’t quite accepted the torment his mama must have gone through when she was murdered.
Micah had tried his best to cover his little brother’s eyes when Teddy had been the first to stumble upon the mangled corpse of their mother. On that wretched day, Teddy could remember the way his eyes felt like sandpaper with how he sobbed relentlessly, and the way Papa seemed to only respond to his wife’s death with a stone-cold stoicism as he remained as aloof and detached from his children as always. Papa hurt, not with as much grief as guilt, but Teddy would never be the one to fully acknowledge that as reality. Instead of sympathising, Teddy would only feel resentment that his father hadn’t done more to keep mama safe in the first place.
The young European girl was crying, Teddy had come to notice as he saw Salem standing nearby as a silent pillar of strength if the girl wished to accept it. Whilst that was an honourable thing to do for sure, Teddy could never be one to stand around waiting for an opportunity to crop up. If he wanted to do something, then he’d invent the opportunity himself. Walking over to stand beside Salem, he looked towards Salem before turning his head to look towards Max.
❝ Why did you leave your country? ❞ He tipped his chin up as his curious eyes searched the girl’s face. Not so sympathetic, but he had a feeling he was onto something. Ever since she’d arrived with her two siblings, it seemed as if they had brought enough emotional baggage along with them from Russia. Teddy wouldn’t often make assumptions, but he could only guess that there ought to be a correlation between their arrival in The Badlands and them leaving in the first place. Maybe he wasn't so sympathetic, but perhaps talking about what had happened would be the best for her. Teddy wasn't completely heartless.
[align=center][div style="width: 400px; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; font-size: 6pt; line-height: 1.4; letter-spacing: 0.5px; word-spacing: 2px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]✧･ﾟ: I'VE BEEN IN LIKE A THOUSAND TIMES, DATED EVERY WOMAN IN THE ATMOSPHERE. I'VE BEEN TO EVERY CONTINENT, BROKEN ALL THE HEARTS IN EVERY HEMISPHERE, AND IF I'M NOT THE TYPE OF GUY YOU LIKE TO CIRCUMVENT, JUST REMEMBER NOT TO LOVE ME WHEN I DISAPPEAR. I GRADUATED AT THE TOP, I LIKE TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE BOURGEOISIE . . .