Repose Memories (reposememories) wrote in repose, @ 2017-06-05 21:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | sasha james, ~plot: memories |
[memory]
What: Memory
Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: experiencing
Warning, this memory contains: weirdos in masks
You’re sixteen and this is the first time your parents let you attend one of their strange parties. Your mother picks out your suit, she presses your collar down and smiles so brightly she starts to cry. Your father gives you a nod. You’ve been waiting for this night since you were old enough to stay up and listen to the parties. They let you free and you head downstairs and out into the garden. It’s dark, way too dark for a normal party and when your eyes adjust you can see this is a masquerade. Expensive suits and dresses matched with jewel encrusted masks. All creatures of the ocean.
An octopus, red tentacles reaching out. A seal, round cheeks and sad eyes. Even a sea sponge, a yellow phallic across a man’s face that makes you laugh. You’re still sixteen, after all. The low blue lights and glittering masks make you feel like you’ve stepped underwater, far away from the disgusting masses who could never shrug the world like the elite did. All of them were Atlas, holding up the earth with their intelligence, ingenuity and compassion for the sake of mankind. All so weary of the backbreaking slave labor they did for this world and each looking for an escape in your parent’s secret society. Here, under the water, they can build for each other. Create without open hands begging and grabbing for more.
You move through the crowd, greeting those who recognize you (no masks allowed until you are initiated). Being a gentleman and a smooth communicator is the most important skill, according to your father. You are tall, handsome and good at smiling. Each one of them welcomes you and wishes you a smooth initiation. Of course, no one has told you what this entails, but you assume it has something to do with picking out a mask you like and saying some old words that barely mean anything anymore.
You steal a few drinks and wander until someone plays a trumpet from the main stage. You hear your father’s voice over the speakers and he summons you to the docks for your initiation. The crowd buzzed with excitement and you feel your heart race, so proud and ready to be part of this thing your parents love more than you. The glittering sea monsters gather on the dock, turning to look at you as you approach. You between two rows of them as they grin and cheer behind their masks. Your father is at the end of the dock and he’s holding a large, dripping shell. He cracks it open with a hammer, snatching an orb out of pulsing flesh inside.
He holds the pearl up and it glimmers blue. The crowd gasps, murmurs and then erupts in cheers. You hear them call you the savior, the chosen one, the bringer of the end. That last one makes your head spin.
“If you are worthy, you will find the pearl.” Your father says and tosses the blue orb over his shoulder. It makes the smallest plunk into the water. The crowd goes silent, you can hear something in the back of your mind that tells you to leave now while you still have a chance. Who cares about riches and glory and drowning the planet in blue? The thought crosses your mind, but it’s so easy to ignore.
You take off, shoes smacking across wooden planks and you dive past your father into the murky New Orleans water.