Margaret "Molly" Katherine Amanda Carpenter (ragged_lady) wrote in blood_red_sky, @ 2011-09-25 00:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | carr wallace, molly carpenter |
Your soul is aching and it's dying to be heard. (open)
Food for thought was a stupid phrase. Molly came to this conclusion hours ago. There was nothing satisfying about having food for thought. Nothing filling. Your brain just ate and ate at whatever this food was, and didn't seem to get anywhere with it. Gristle for thought was more appropriate.
Harry. Murphy. Cavan. How did all of these people see inside her so easily? Okay, Harry she got since it was kind of his job to know his apprentice inside and out, anticipate which direction the grasshopper would jump, but he had been dead during a very formative point in Molly's life. The Molly of pre-Chichén Itzá was not the Molly that woke up in the hospital. Nor was she the Molly post-training by the Leanansidhe. To be honest, even Molly didn't really know who the Molly of right now was, but apparently other people did. She really wished they would just tell her so she could figure it all out!
Figuring it out was what she was trying to do right now, sitting on a swing in an empty playground with her legs straight out in front of her, her feet bracing her to keep her from motion. Her hands loosely gripped the chain as her eyes stared seemingly blankly ahead of her. Anyone observing her might think she was unaware of her surroundings, but Molly...no, the Ragged Lady knew better than that. Her senses were open to pick up on anything and anyone with naughty intentions, including hostile thoughts towards her. She wasn't sure Harry would approve of that, but she used what she had to survive. Not using every trick in her arsenal would leave her vulnerable. She was no good to him dead.
Meanwhile, she had turned her focus inward in an attempt to look at herself. She didn't want to delve too deeply. Not here, out in the open without a containment circle in case she saw something that set her off. Right now what she wanted to do was see the layout of the place, discover the floor plan of herself. This wasn't an easy thing to do. Not only was the fear of what she might find a distraction, but frankly the place was a wreck! Memories kept trying to jump out of the shadows where they lurked in little cracks and hidey holes she didn't know were there. She would flinch physically and turn her awareness away from them. She noted where they were however thinking maybe this would give her some sort of pattern. Find the pattern, map the course. Know thyself.
"Thhhppt! The Oracel was a bitch, Neo."