Chaos and Calamity (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2015-08-21 08:12 pm
rootsofthestories) wrote in rainbowfic2015-08-21 08:12 pm
Entry tags:
Spring Green
Name: Sebastian
Title: a nation reborn (a nation in blood)
Story: The Liquor Cabinet/The Purge
Colors: Spring Green: 4. what's the future, who will choose it?
Supplies: graffiti (Summer Blockbuster)
Word Count: 2600
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Non graphic depictions of violence and blood
Notes: I was going to do something else for this challenge but I was watching this movie earlier today and realized I could do this thing instead. So I did. As for who the Drinks and Poisons are, they're a set of dimension hopping beings who have settled on earth for now to escape their own world's chaos. The Weavers are the deities that allowed them to pass through to our world.
There's a poison in the rivers, there's sickness ins the streets. There are bodies in the doorway and she knows it's only going to get worse. It's still early, after all, and the blue flowers in all the doorways promise nothing but blood.
Gin didn't know a world before the Purge. She knew there was one, new they told stories of a ravaged place, a place of poverty, of war and terrifying conditions She knew that the Purge was supposed to have helped that, it has salvaged a nation and made it into something that bloomed.
That's what all the stories say, at least the ones broadcast and taught in the schools.
She hears whispers of others, of plots and conspiracies, of ho the world may have been horrible but it wasn't tainted with the blood of the helpless the way it is now.
She doesn't know which to believe.
It's so easy to wrap yourself in the stories the media feeds you, the tales of a nation in ruins and how it clawed it's way back with the Purge. Yet she feels like there's a lie somewhere in there, a trick that you have to look sideways to see but can find if you're clever enough to know how to tilt your head.
She's not sure she's clever enough bu she knows something's not right all the same.
Violence isn't something she believes solves your problems, only makes them worse, or distracts you from what's really going on.
Violence is another trick, a play to keep yo from looking at the real problem.
But she's just one person, one individual who technically was never even born here. She's not someone who gets an opinion or who will be changing the world. She'll just be another person hunkering down in the relative safety of their home, praying they can see things through until the morning.
She can't be sure she hasn't made an enemy, can't be sure there isn't someone out there with a bullet and a bad idea. She can't be sure someone isn't out for her blood.
There's a world out there, she knows, that's worse than this. It's a world wrapped up in war, with death constantly nipping at your heels and promises of violence every time you walk out the door.
And maybe this is better, maybe it does help release the beast within the people and contain it for the rest of the time.
Maybe the world is a better place.
But she's not sure she believes that and she's not sure she ever will.
Watching a young person being chased down and murdered because they're homeless, because they didn't fit in or some other strange, stupid reason that a person came up with, will never stop chilling her to her core. The world is dangerous, she knows, but it shouldn't be this dangerous, not in this way.
She'll settle back, watch the world fall apart for a night and every time she sees the sun rise the next morning, she'll have realized she lost a little something inside her, faith or compassion for the people of this world, he's not sure, but he knows it's flown off for better pastures.
She doesn't entirely blame it.
~
Absinthe absolutely growls when the Purge is brought up. She gets a look on her face that says she's absolutely not going to talk about it, though if someone presses, she will.
She will talk about how it disgusts her. How it enrages her. How it is a world gone mad, not a world saved.
Maybe she should support it, she might say on sadder days. Maybe she should understand the rage that sits in each of us and how we need to release it and feel the aggression wash away but she will never be in support of this. She will never allow herself to embrace this twisted culture of bloodshed and pain.
She came from a war, she saw too much blood already. Coming here was supposed to be an escape from that and, for the most part, it has been.
But Purge Night is far from an escape. It is senseless violence that leaves her seething from the tips of her fingers down to the soles of her feet.
It's sick, she says to herself. This is wrong.
And on other nights still, on the nights when she's alone, when it's her and the skylight in the living room of her home, not even Sangria to see her, Absinthe will pray.
She'll whisper words to the Weavers, ask them what this was supposed to teach her. She never wanted to enter world with this kind of senseless violence. It's cruel, maybe crueler than a war. At least in a war there was something to fight for.
There's nothing to fight for here, there's only violence for the sake of violence and it's wrong, it's twisted.
Sometimes, in the darkest part of her mind,s he finds herself wanting to go out on Purge night, take her skills and rid the world of those who think they are good enough to go out and do this.
But she has no idea if that makes her just as bad as those she wants to seek revenge on. She tries not to think about it that hard.
~
Sherry makes chocolates to bring with her to the bar.
Sherry always makes chocolate to bring with her. It doesn't make things better, not by a long shot. There's still blood flowing in the street, there's still bodies hitting the floor, but at least they can all sit together, have a few truffles and be ready for what may come in the night.
Because while they don't think anything will come for them in the night and the bar is secured with the best security they can all afford, no one is sure whether they're really safe. No one can say that they haven't angered anyone for a year, or that they aren't the target of hatred or envy.
No one can promise that they are safe.
Sherry knows that and while he can't stop the world from being the crazy, violent, horrible, twisted place it is now, she can help ease some of the fear.
She can bring chocolate.
So she spends the week before the night of the Purge working as per usual, but her nights are filled with making as much chocolate confections as she can.
She brings them with her, everything from cupcakes, to truffles, hot chocolate to dipped pastries, setting it up like a buffet on the counter of the bar before everyone arrives.
While it may not be a party, it can at least be somewhat enjoyable even if she knows, of some of her friends, the attempt will be in vain.
It's not their fault, she knows that the times they come from are hard, or, even more than that, are too soft. She came from a time though, that would allow for something like this, a time where things were in flux and something like the Purge could have so easily come about if the right people were n power.
She doesn't embrace the Purge, not by a long shot, but she knows it's purpose and she doesn't fault it for what it is.
SOs he'l make her chocolates, try and bring a little light into the eyes of those who hold nothing but dark expressions and they'll get through the night, just as they always do.
~
Cider doesn't care.
He gets numb at the idea, numb at the execution and numb at the displeasure it brings about to his friends.
He knows he should have a different reaction, should let it stir something inside him but it's hard. It's hard to remember to give a damn, hard to bring up the energy to care when he feels like he could die at any moment.
Because tonight? His life is on the lone, all of their lives are and hey could bite it at any time, it's just a matter of who's feeling pissed off and want to do something about it.
He'll put on a face, of course. He always does. Every year he'll pull out his guitar, offer to sing songs and cheer people up. He'll pretend hes not bothered,t hat he's fine and that everything will be all right.
But he feels dead inside, tired and limp. He doesn't have fear, can't be bothered with it, but he can't be bothered with anything at that point. There's nothing inside him to be afraid, nothing inside to feel angry.
Nothing there at all.
It will come back, bloom like flowers in spring. He won't be numb forever. It's just that the Purge kills more than just people, it kills something inside him, eviscerates it and leaves it rotting at his feet for a while after. It's the joy, the lightheartedness, the care-free attitude that everyone knows him for.
It dies and is reborn, only to die again as the sound of the alarm goes off.
He'll sing songs, yes. He'll play whatever his friends want to hear that night because it's the least he can do but his heart isn't in it. His heart isn't anywhere.
It's gone, left on the street to be trampled and covered in blood and die under the heavy weight of the Purge.
~
Sangria is quiet when the Purge comes around. She knows it upsets Absinthe to a degree that she's unwilling to talk about,s o Sangria goes about making sure everything is settled and taken care of as best she can.
She makes sure the girls are as safe as the can be, makes sure both she and Absinthe make it to the bar before the alarms go off, she makes sure the other woman eats and when the bloodshed starts, she makes sure Absinthe isn't watching.
It's the least she can do.
She can't make the Purge go away, she can't make her partner take it better and she can't somehow make them all safe, so she does what litle she is capable of to make everyone's life easier.
She helps everyone, organizes chocolates with Sherry, plays games with Vermouth, sings when Cider plays songs she knows. She does everything within her power to keep busy and not think about what's going on outside, only what's happening within the confines of what they are calling a safe space for the evening.
She knows that everyone is itching to see if they make it through, to see if somehow they survive another year. It's not a question in her mind though, they'll survive because they've survived this long. All of them have survived things worse than the Purge, or have survived enough Purges t this point that she feels they all have the right to say they'll get through this too.
They'll get through, they'll see tomorrow, they'll live to see another day.
Sangria will sit with Absinthe when things settle down, hold her hand and feel the rage and fear and sickness course through her love. She knows that it's a thing that will forever upset her but she can't do anything to make it stop, so she just sits next to her, letting Absinthe show her small moments of weakness when shes willing and seethe with rage when she's not.
And they'll all get by, play at this strange party for the night and watch the sun rise int he morning. It's become tradition, another year, another Purge, another sunrise with alcohol on the roof.
They'll see it through. They always see it through.
~
Hemlock and Cyanide and the other angels don't always show up but this year they do.
They arrive first, him holding her arm and both of them looking tired as hell.
They don't say much and no one really cares, or minds for that matter. No one's really chatty for the first couple of hours. It's just how things usually go The "party" doesn't get started until later int he night.
Hemlock brought cookies, Cyanide brought a fruit plate. They're set aside and the two fo them are allowed to take up residence in a corner, falling into a heap and just sitting there for a while, watching people filter in while the few people who decided to go out to the bar before the Purge, leave and head home, or to wherever they deemed fit to spend he evening.
Hemlock feels sick.
Both of them know the night is going to be rough, filled with ghosts that leave them shaking.
Because they can sense it, feel the death in the air and each body that hits the ground is a feather from their winds, a drop of blood from their own bodies. They'll die a little with each person that falls that night.
Cyanide tries not tot cry when the alarm goes off. Hemlock tries not to join her.
Some of the others are better at it, have felt the deaths before, are used to the feeling of perishing slowly but both of them are still young, still trying to learn what the world means and how this one is different from the place they'd been before.
Hemlock till prays to the Weavers, Cyanide still whispers words for fallen family and lost friends.
They are still so, so young.
They are still so, so scared.
~
The bar is alive that night with people, a little glowing ship in a sea of blood. People spend their night in different ways, anger or grief or fear. People get through the night in whatever way they cna.
The lot of them aren't always friends, some hardly see each other at all but there's a truce on Purge night.
There's no fighting, no anger towards one another, only relief that there's another year where everyone is still there to show up and be seen.
Vodka and Gin watch the windows, waiting for the people they've collected to emerge, bloody and smiling.
Sherry and Cider sit and distract those who need it, at least they try They offer games, songs, anything that can be offered as a distraction because its something to do.
Sangria sits with Absinthe, holding her hand as they count down the minutes until it's all over for yet another year.
The angels drink, wonder where they've gone wrong, or what they've done to deserve all the little deaths that run through their bodies.
Everyone finds a way to get through. Everyone survives.
The sun rises, the alarm sounds, and the security locks fall away.
They survive another year. Each of them wonder how long it's going ot be until that stops being true.
Because the Purge reminds them all that this is not where they belong, this world is not theirs to claim. They will not live forever in this place, the Weavers will call them all one day and they'll each go.
But it's not the death they fear, not at all. Each of them ahve faced death once and did not show fear.
It's the dying that scares them.
It's looking up at cold eyes, eyes that want to see them bleed out until there's nothing left. Eyes that scream of anger and hate and bloodlust being the last thing they see.
They want peace, they want comfort. They want to know that, if they must die, it won't be at the hands of the hands of beasts.
It won't be sanctioned by the world, it wont' be blessed by the new founding fathers.
Title: a nation reborn (a nation in blood)
Story: The Liquor Cabinet/The Purge
Colors: Spring Green: 4. what's the future, who will choose it?
Supplies: graffiti (Summer Blockbuster)
Word Count: 2600
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Non graphic depictions of violence and blood
Notes: I was going to do something else for this challenge but I was watching this movie earlier today and realized I could do this thing instead. So I did. As for who the Drinks and Poisons are, they're a set of dimension hopping beings who have settled on earth for now to escape their own world's chaos. The Weavers are the deities that allowed them to pass through to our world.
There's a poison in the rivers, there's sickness ins the streets. There are bodies in the doorway and she knows it's only going to get worse. It's still early, after all, and the blue flowers in all the doorways promise nothing but blood.
Gin didn't know a world before the Purge. She knew there was one, new they told stories of a ravaged place, a place of poverty, of war and terrifying conditions She knew that the Purge was supposed to have helped that, it has salvaged a nation and made it into something that bloomed.
That's what all the stories say, at least the ones broadcast and taught in the schools.
She hears whispers of others, of plots and conspiracies, of ho the world may have been horrible but it wasn't tainted with the blood of the helpless the way it is now.
She doesn't know which to believe.
It's so easy to wrap yourself in the stories the media feeds you, the tales of a nation in ruins and how it clawed it's way back with the Purge. Yet she feels like there's a lie somewhere in there, a trick that you have to look sideways to see but can find if you're clever enough to know how to tilt your head.
She's not sure she's clever enough bu she knows something's not right all the same.
Violence isn't something she believes solves your problems, only makes them worse, or distracts you from what's really going on.
Violence is another trick, a play to keep yo from looking at the real problem.
But she's just one person, one individual who technically was never even born here. She's not someone who gets an opinion or who will be changing the world. She'll just be another person hunkering down in the relative safety of their home, praying they can see things through until the morning.
She can't be sure she hasn't made an enemy, can't be sure there isn't someone out there with a bullet and a bad idea. She can't be sure someone isn't out for her blood.
There's a world out there, she knows, that's worse than this. It's a world wrapped up in war, with death constantly nipping at your heels and promises of violence every time you walk out the door.
And maybe this is better, maybe it does help release the beast within the people and contain it for the rest of the time.
Maybe the world is a better place.
But she's not sure she believes that and she's not sure she ever will.
Watching a young person being chased down and murdered because they're homeless, because they didn't fit in or some other strange, stupid reason that a person came up with, will never stop chilling her to her core. The world is dangerous, she knows, but it shouldn't be this dangerous, not in this way.
She'll settle back, watch the world fall apart for a night and every time she sees the sun rise the next morning, she'll have realized she lost a little something inside her, faith or compassion for the people of this world, he's not sure, but he knows it's flown off for better pastures.
She doesn't entirely blame it.
~
Absinthe absolutely growls when the Purge is brought up. She gets a look on her face that says she's absolutely not going to talk about it, though if someone presses, she will.
She will talk about how it disgusts her. How it enrages her. How it is a world gone mad, not a world saved.
Maybe she should support it, she might say on sadder days. Maybe she should understand the rage that sits in each of us and how we need to release it and feel the aggression wash away but she will never be in support of this. She will never allow herself to embrace this twisted culture of bloodshed and pain.
She came from a war, she saw too much blood already. Coming here was supposed to be an escape from that and, for the most part, it has been.
But Purge Night is far from an escape. It is senseless violence that leaves her seething from the tips of her fingers down to the soles of her feet.
It's sick, she says to herself. This is wrong.
And on other nights still, on the nights when she's alone, when it's her and the skylight in the living room of her home, not even Sangria to see her, Absinthe will pray.
She'll whisper words to the Weavers, ask them what this was supposed to teach her. She never wanted to enter world with this kind of senseless violence. It's cruel, maybe crueler than a war. At least in a war there was something to fight for.
There's nothing to fight for here, there's only violence for the sake of violence and it's wrong, it's twisted.
Sometimes, in the darkest part of her mind,s he finds herself wanting to go out on Purge night, take her skills and rid the world of those who think they are good enough to go out and do this.
But she has no idea if that makes her just as bad as those she wants to seek revenge on. She tries not to think about it that hard.
~
Sherry makes chocolates to bring with her to the bar.
Sherry always makes chocolate to bring with her. It doesn't make things better, not by a long shot. There's still blood flowing in the street, there's still bodies hitting the floor, but at least they can all sit together, have a few truffles and be ready for what may come in the night.
Because while they don't think anything will come for them in the night and the bar is secured with the best security they can all afford, no one is sure whether they're really safe. No one can say that they haven't angered anyone for a year, or that they aren't the target of hatred or envy.
No one can promise that they are safe.
Sherry knows that and while he can't stop the world from being the crazy, violent, horrible, twisted place it is now, she can help ease some of the fear.
She can bring chocolate.
So she spends the week before the night of the Purge working as per usual, but her nights are filled with making as much chocolate confections as she can.
She brings them with her, everything from cupcakes, to truffles, hot chocolate to dipped pastries, setting it up like a buffet on the counter of the bar before everyone arrives.
While it may not be a party, it can at least be somewhat enjoyable even if she knows, of some of her friends, the attempt will be in vain.
It's not their fault, she knows that the times they come from are hard, or, even more than that, are too soft. She came from a time though, that would allow for something like this, a time where things were in flux and something like the Purge could have so easily come about if the right people were n power.
She doesn't embrace the Purge, not by a long shot, but she knows it's purpose and she doesn't fault it for what it is.
SOs he'l make her chocolates, try and bring a little light into the eyes of those who hold nothing but dark expressions and they'll get through the night, just as they always do.
~
Cider doesn't care.
He gets numb at the idea, numb at the execution and numb at the displeasure it brings about to his friends.
He knows he should have a different reaction, should let it stir something inside him but it's hard. It's hard to remember to give a damn, hard to bring up the energy to care when he feels like he could die at any moment.
Because tonight? His life is on the lone, all of their lives are and hey could bite it at any time, it's just a matter of who's feeling pissed off and want to do something about it.
He'll put on a face, of course. He always does. Every year he'll pull out his guitar, offer to sing songs and cheer people up. He'll pretend hes not bothered,t hat he's fine and that everything will be all right.
But he feels dead inside, tired and limp. He doesn't have fear, can't be bothered with it, but he can't be bothered with anything at that point. There's nothing inside him to be afraid, nothing inside to feel angry.
Nothing there at all.
It will come back, bloom like flowers in spring. He won't be numb forever. It's just that the Purge kills more than just people, it kills something inside him, eviscerates it and leaves it rotting at his feet for a while after. It's the joy, the lightheartedness, the care-free attitude that everyone knows him for.
It dies and is reborn, only to die again as the sound of the alarm goes off.
He'll sing songs, yes. He'll play whatever his friends want to hear that night because it's the least he can do but his heart isn't in it. His heart isn't anywhere.
It's gone, left on the street to be trampled and covered in blood and die under the heavy weight of the Purge.
~
Sangria is quiet when the Purge comes around. She knows it upsets Absinthe to a degree that she's unwilling to talk about,s o Sangria goes about making sure everything is settled and taken care of as best she can.
She makes sure the girls are as safe as the can be, makes sure both she and Absinthe make it to the bar before the alarms go off, she makes sure the other woman eats and when the bloodshed starts, she makes sure Absinthe isn't watching.
It's the least she can do.
She can't make the Purge go away, she can't make her partner take it better and she can't somehow make them all safe, so she does what litle she is capable of to make everyone's life easier.
She helps everyone, organizes chocolates with Sherry, plays games with Vermouth, sings when Cider plays songs she knows. She does everything within her power to keep busy and not think about what's going on outside, only what's happening within the confines of what they are calling a safe space for the evening.
She knows that everyone is itching to see if they make it through, to see if somehow they survive another year. It's not a question in her mind though, they'll survive because they've survived this long. All of them have survived things worse than the Purge, or have survived enough Purges t this point that she feels they all have the right to say they'll get through this too.
They'll get through, they'll see tomorrow, they'll live to see another day.
Sangria will sit with Absinthe when things settle down, hold her hand and feel the rage and fear and sickness course through her love. She knows that it's a thing that will forever upset her but she can't do anything to make it stop, so she just sits next to her, letting Absinthe show her small moments of weakness when shes willing and seethe with rage when she's not.
And they'll all get by, play at this strange party for the night and watch the sun rise int he morning. It's become tradition, another year, another Purge, another sunrise with alcohol on the roof.
They'll see it through. They always see it through.
~
Hemlock and Cyanide and the other angels don't always show up but this year they do.
They arrive first, him holding her arm and both of them looking tired as hell.
They don't say much and no one really cares, or minds for that matter. No one's really chatty for the first couple of hours. It's just how things usually go The "party" doesn't get started until later int he night.
Hemlock brought cookies, Cyanide brought a fruit plate. They're set aside and the two fo them are allowed to take up residence in a corner, falling into a heap and just sitting there for a while, watching people filter in while the few people who decided to go out to the bar before the Purge, leave and head home, or to wherever they deemed fit to spend he evening.
Hemlock feels sick.
Both of them know the night is going to be rough, filled with ghosts that leave them shaking.
Because they can sense it, feel the death in the air and each body that hits the ground is a feather from their winds, a drop of blood from their own bodies. They'll die a little with each person that falls that night.
Cyanide tries not tot cry when the alarm goes off. Hemlock tries not to join her.
Some of the others are better at it, have felt the deaths before, are used to the feeling of perishing slowly but both of them are still young, still trying to learn what the world means and how this one is different from the place they'd been before.
Hemlock till prays to the Weavers, Cyanide still whispers words for fallen family and lost friends.
They are still so, so young.
They are still so, so scared.
~
The bar is alive that night with people, a little glowing ship in a sea of blood. People spend their night in different ways, anger or grief or fear. People get through the night in whatever way they cna.
The lot of them aren't always friends, some hardly see each other at all but there's a truce on Purge night.
There's no fighting, no anger towards one another, only relief that there's another year where everyone is still there to show up and be seen.
Vodka and Gin watch the windows, waiting for the people they've collected to emerge, bloody and smiling.
Sherry and Cider sit and distract those who need it, at least they try They offer games, songs, anything that can be offered as a distraction because its something to do.
Sangria sits with Absinthe, holding her hand as they count down the minutes until it's all over for yet another year.
The angels drink, wonder where they've gone wrong, or what they've done to deserve all the little deaths that run through their bodies.
Everyone finds a way to get through. Everyone survives.
The sun rises, the alarm sounds, and the security locks fall away.
They survive another year. Each of them wonder how long it's going ot be until that stops being true.
Because the Purge reminds them all that this is not where they belong, this world is not theirs to claim. They will not live forever in this place, the Weavers will call them all one day and they'll each go.
But it's not the death they fear, not at all. Each of them ahve faced death once and did not show fear.
It's the dying that scares them.
It's looking up at cold eyes, eyes that want to see them bleed out until there's nothing left. Eyes that scream of anger and hate and bloodlust being the last thing they see.
They want peace, they want comfort. They want to know that, if they must die, it won't be at the hands of the hands of beasts.
It won't be sanctioned by the world, it wont' be blessed by the new founding fathers.
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The setting is so much fun. It's based off a movie that came out a few years ago and I just wanted to play in it so bad. It's not a great movie exactly but it's fun and I enjoy it.
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I was super excited that I got to play with this universe. I mean I love the characters but oh man, do I love the setting. XD
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(trufax in a Purge I'd just run out to the Barnes and Noble and then spend the rest of the night reading in the food court.)
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I totally dig the concept of the Purge, it's such a fun experiment to run in one's head and putting different people into the situation is kind of fascinating.
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*wiggles back and forth with a happiness*