I don't update my blog very often. But i'll try to, haha. I'm very obsessive, I get sick easily, and I love to draw, sing, and sleep.
my hobbies include playing games (twewy, kingdom hearts & final fantasy!), drawing, cosplaying, and other random things like papercrafts and eating ice cream.
I'm obsessed with wicked, and would love to be on broadway some day.

OHOHO. I've done a kylie.

This is something I wrote last night. It sounds all ~epic~ and ~tragic~ but eh.
I was lazy and half asleep so apologies for my crap ass writing.

A little Pollux drabble. The poor thing ;A;
This is really cliche and terrible, and I felt like writing something.
So yeah. My bad.

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The shock of losing his twin hit him pretty bad.

Castor had this kind of reassuring personality which never failed to smooth things over. He had this way with words that could rival even Apollo himself (from what Pollux had heard from Alena of the Apollo cabin, he owned everyone at poetry readings). Sappy as that sounded, he had cried for days after his death, and this time, there was no one to reassure him.

His father wouldn't care much; father preferred to settle matters by himself, muttering furiously to no one and anyone (the insane man he was). Mom was kind and gentle, but constantly busy. Pollux loved his mom, and he knew she was devastated, but she always had a weird way of showing it, and it made Pollux uncomfortable and sick inside, so he avoided seeing her if he could.

So he suffered alone, refusing to talk to anyone but himself.

Somehow, he hoped, at the back of his mind, that he would try again at another life. Rebirth. The Isle of the Blest. But Pollux knew it wouldn't be easy. He could be anyone; perhaps the pigtailed daughter of the Asian couple that rented the apartment below his mom's, or (who knew?)the tubby, almost overweight ginger cat that prowled around the apartment blocks' front door, mewing timidly and demanding food from any passerby.

He hated to admit it, but the prospect of seeing Castor as somebody else, someone without the same eyes, without the same unruly hair, scared him.

When people had asked him aobut it, he'd turn a blind eye and pull a joke out of thin air. When his fellow campers got too intrusive, he would turn immensely bitter and walk away. He couldn't help it. He'd choke up and his throat would seal over whenever his brother's name came up in day to day conversation.

Survivor's guilt, they had called it.

Labels: random drabble