Fᴇʟɪᴄɪᴛʏ Wᴏʀᴛʜɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iphigeneia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-02-08 11:33 pm
iphigeneia) wrote in thecapitol2014-02-08 11:33 pm
Entry tags:
Quench like a flame ‘cause the very last light is gone
Who| Felicity & Open
What| Wallowing in self pity
Where| Tribute Center
When| Week 04
Warnings/Notes| N/A
Waking up had been humiliating in ways Felicity never knew existed. It was one thing to die, to be murdered. It was quite another to have her death mean nothing and go unavenged. She felt positively appalled thinking about it. And worse than that, she felt disgusted at recalling the details of her own demise. To die by Cinderella's hand was fitting and fine. To linger and whimper in the arms of Marius Pontmercy was another matter entirely. It was revolting.
Now she was saddled with that hideous burden of shame, at showing weakness and intimacy to an undeserving public. She swore she'd never stoop so low, and if this were truly her new reality (as it indeed appeared to be) she promised herself and whatever powers were at her disposal that she would never she that kind of weakness again. She was Lady Strength. She would return to that form soon.
But not before wallowing in her self pity awhile longer. She'd made her way into a common area at last, dead set on feeling sorry for herself and her fallen state before daring to explore her new surroundings or the strange people in it. A girl had a right to sulk, and dammit, she was going to exercise that right if it killed her.
What| Wallowing in self pity
Where| Tribute Center
When| Week 04
Warnings/Notes| N/A
Waking up had been humiliating in ways Felicity never knew existed. It was one thing to die, to be murdered. It was quite another to have her death mean nothing and go unavenged. She felt positively appalled thinking about it. And worse than that, she felt disgusted at recalling the details of her own demise. To die by Cinderella's hand was fitting and fine. To linger and whimper in the arms of Marius Pontmercy was another matter entirely. It was revolting.
Now she was saddled with that hideous burden of shame, at showing weakness and intimacy to an undeserving public. She swore she'd never stoop so low, and if this were truly her new reality (as it indeed appeared to be) she promised herself and whatever powers were at her disposal that she would never she that kind of weakness again. She was Lady Strength. She would return to that form soon.
But not before wallowing in her self pity awhile longer. She'd made her way into a common area at last, dead set on feeling sorry for herself and her fallen state before daring to explore her new surroundings or the strange people in it. A girl had a right to sulk, and dammit, she was going to exercise that right if it killed her.