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Gheila's Memories > Updates

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message 1: by Savannah, The One in Charge (uh-oh) (new)

Savannah | 1482 comments Mod
Sorry Elise!!!! I really meant to get it up asap but here it is :) When you want to add a new chapter, add a topic, or just paste in here idc do what u want it's ur folder!


message 2: by Elise (new)

Elise | 821 comments Mod
Thanks!


message 3: by Elise (new)

Elise | 821 comments Mod
"Gheila Kirk, you say?"
"Yes'm."
"Never heard of such a name."
"It's the only name I have, ma'am."
"No need to call me that, Geela."
"Gheila, ma'am. And if not 'ma'am', what should I call you?" Gheila said quietly, tucking in the corners of the towel they had lent her underneath her elbows and trying to sit up straight without huddling into the warmth of it. A drip of rainwater plopped from her hair onto a bare pinky.
She eyed the odd woman carefully as she responded with, "Miss Willings, if you please."
Gheila nodded, spotting the sullen undertone of her voice and the strange blank duty behind Miss Willings' brown eyes.
"Miss Willings," Gheila asked feebly and looking through considerably brighter blue eyes and pursing her lips tightly in a sign of distress. She felt blue with cold.
Miss Willings continued to gaze at her.
She began again. "Miss Willings? Why are you sad?"
Miss Willings' eyebrows quirked and there was a suspicious flash lighting her dull eyes for an instant. "Nothing about me, Gheila. I am not the concern here, and I am not sad." Her brown hands laced together as she leaned forward to see the brown-haired youth easier. "Gheila, how did you come to our doorstep?"
"Our? Miss Willings?"
Miss Willings gestured to the room as if it were the encompassing orphanage and it could speak for her, but nonetheless, she clarified. "The orphanage, Gheila. You do know where you are?"
"Yes. I walked here."
"Did you?"
Gheila suddenly looked at her in a new light. This woman did not believe her. She had reason to. Gheila had no idea that she had even arrived at an orphanage at all. "Do you have reason to disbelieve me?" Gheila said evenly and with a subdued voice, for in any other voice, it would sound threatening somehow, she knew.
Miss Willings moved her head in a no without removing her eyes from Gheila. "Where did you walk from?"
Gheila only took a moment to think something up. "I climbed out my window." She fished for a moment in desperation as it seemed not enough. "I could not bear it there anymore." Her fingers tapped on the side of her chair. She was nervous, but Miss Willings did not notice.
Instead, the woman's face grew grave in thought. "Where is your home?"
"I can't tell you," Gheila whispered, and it seemed to seal the effect.
"We can help you."
"Keep me here, please," Gheila said and dropped her gaze. She could hear the shift of fabric from miss Willings' mauve dress.
"Gheila, we will. But you must tell us so this can be solved permanently."
Gheila shook her head rapidly and raised her legs to tuck her knees into her chest.
Miss Willings gave a sigh.

A young girl, around the age of 15 and impossibly freckly, was draped across her bunk, basking in a window's sunlight, a book with a lime green cover dangling from her thin fingers. Her short mane of straight brown hair rustled with her breath as her eyes lazily flicked from one dust speck to another, their whiteness revealed by light.
But among her rest, one lithe finger was tapping out a rhythm on the wooden side of her bed, unadorned by any dust ruffle.
Eventually, she sat up rather suddenly, breathing in deep, and watched her finger. She seemed to be deep in thought. She swung her legs over and planted a toe, one by one, on the dusty hardwood floor, beginning to hum the first notes of a simple, arching tune.
When she left the bed, she kept the rhythm drumming on her leg as she fished a notebook from her belongings, replacing it with her book. Slowly, she began to write letters, or symbols, or some kind of script as if each line were bound to her. At one point, she closed her eyes, the tune struggling, until she opened them again and the song continued to carry.
She began to sing, and it was in English, and not wonderfully in tune of any sort, but it was clear, clean, crisp and sweet, and whether it was in tune or not hardly made a difference.
"...A ship, oh, a ship, it carries her on;
even though the waves washed against her.
Somehow, a will had this ship abound in;
a curious workmanship upon this hour..."
She continued until it died out, fading, and she stood, staring at a script she did not know she had in her head. She tore it from its binding and folded it neatly, slipping it into a small bag, or purse, or satchel of sorts at the foot of her bed among other slips of paper.
If one cared to look at the papers, and had enough knowledge, they would see many pages full of that selfsame script, crammed into little spaces when she could not find something else to write on, and would recognize it as Greek. The girl had not found the name of it quite yet, but she was quite ready to try.
The tunes and poetry, memories and dreams, did not so much plague her as jump out at her when she simply had not expected it. Surely, looking at a teapot would not trigger anything, but incidentally, it did indeed trigger a memory once. Same had a ceiling fan on the hundredth time she had seen it, spoke to her of a dream. Dreams did not come to her in sleep. She had never had a dream that she could remember, but only brightness. They came during the day, from shafts of sunlight of a whispering of leaves.
She dropped her bag at the foot of her bed again and dragged on her shoes, knowing that she would visit the library once again, for perhaps it held an answer.

With orange plaid shorts, a wrinkled, dark, ash blue t-shirt, and soft brown boots on, the girl looked interestingly out of place against the bare gray crème walls. Her bouncy, rolling gait was something any dancer would glance distastefully at, her limbs loose and always brushing something back or patting something down. Smoothing her shirt, combing her hair, straightening her shorts, rubbing her arms for the draft.
She placed one hand on the library door, and made an attempt to open it with some grace, and was not wholly unsuccessful. She crept pas– okay... well– she tripped past the librarian's desk, looking at the assistant with eyes like a frightened blue-eyed fawn.
Some would say he was quite handsome, rather kind, had a nice smile, but he frightened her a bit when he walked along the bookshelves, his eyes sweeping and nudging, replacing books where they belong.
She was almost out of his sight when he was behind her, looking somewhat concerned. "Is there something you're looking for? I've seen you a lot lately."
She flashed a disarming smile, her fingers tapping against each other in nervousness. "Actually, yes. Thanks. Does this look like anything to you?"
She passed him a slip of paper that she had copied a few of the symbols on and he looked at it for only a moment before saying, "Isn't that an Ω sign? This is Greek, right?"
"Is it?" she said, peering helplessly at the slip as he passed it back to her.
"Almost sure it is. Maybe they have something here– Only a moment." He left her for a computer and began typing at an alarming speed. She was not fond of computers.
'Greek,' she thought, and sighed.

The boy stopped typing and began to click on words and small pictures, then jumped up so suddenly, Gheila took a step back in surprise. He jogged over to a great, grey machine that buzzed and sputtered until paper slid out of its gaping maw.
He came right back with the paper, a long list of what must have been books for her to find, and said, "That should be enough, I think. Let me know if you need any more help." and went off to roam the bookshelves again.
Gheila stood, holding the paper in her hands like a delicate object, still a little surprised, and so, just as stationary as the paper.
She finally gathered her bearings and peered at the first line.
"Greek Myths: A Collection," she muttered, then looked at the numbers and information after. She took a hesitant step toward the bookshelves.
Eyes only on the paper to only glance up to see where she was among the books, it was a complete accident that she edged right into the space of some strange young man rather violently.
She had managed to jolt him right into the bookcase itself, hitting his elbow and his whole pile of books landed on the floor with a great flutter and thud.
Gheila, completely aghast, stared at the boy who was blinking against the bookcase like he had been hit by a train and didn't know where he was.
"Oh, my gosh. I am so," blubbering out an apology, she fell to her knees and tried to gather the books, staring at the bent pages. "so sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"
She began stacking the books in a great hurry, so concerned that the young man would not forgive her. She barely glanced at a title, and stopped.
She held the book in her hands and looked up to him. "Greek Myths: A Collection. This was the book– this is the book I'm looking for," she said mildly. Softly. Brightly.

She shook her head and placed it on the stack, sliding both hands under it and hefting it up so she could stand. They came up to her chin and her arms strained under the weight.
"I'm so sorry," she repeated again.


message 4: by Elise (last edited Nov 10, 2013 05:17PM) (new)

Elise | 821 comments Mod
((Enter Steven))

"No need to apologize, accidents happen... My name is Lucas" he smiled standing up with help from the bookshelf. Honestly, Lucas thought Gheila was sorta cute with that "oh I'm so sorry" look on her face. He didn't understand why she was so apologetic, like really he did stuff like this all the time! He was starting to feel uncomfortable just staring into Ghelia's eyes but at the same time it also felt good. "So..." Lucas continued "this is awkward" Arggggh! He shouldn't have said that 'now it's even more awkward' he thought "What's you name?"

Gheila cocked her head to the left, and hefted the books to a better grip. "Hey, Lucas. Do you want me to set these books down, or..." She ended with a little quirk at the end of her statement, posing a question.
His eyes were vividly pointed at her and it was making her uncomfortable. She shifted the weight in her stance.
"My name's Gheila," she finally said, wishing she had her hands to express with.

Lucas was really wishing he could just go out for a picnic with Gheila, mostly because the palms of his hands were as sweaty as Hades's gym socks after a full work-out and he needed some fresh air, but also partially because he wanted to just get to know this Gheila girl. But he didn't want to risk killing her he had been chased by monsters all week. The only reason he was even in this library was because he was hiding from the monsters, meeting Gheila was just a bonus. He realized that she looked uncomfortable holding the books. "Here, let me take those from you" Lucas took the books from her and placed them gently on the ground. "How about we go sit down on the lawn and chat" Lucas suggested. 'I'll protect her' Lucas promised himself.

Gheila looked down at the books on the floor. They seemed dusty to her... No, not dusty. Just old. Old knowledge. Knowledge because she didn't believe that they could possibly be myth.
Completely oblivious to how kind Lucas was being, she said, "You're just going to leave the books here?" She pointed to the subject in question, and bent to pick the top one off the pile. It was a illustrated book of Echo and Narcissus in Greek paintings and their history.
She looked at her reference paper, then looked at him again. That specific book was not on her sheet, but it was still Greek mythology. It was ridiculous to think he may be emptying the library of the books she specifically needed just in spite of her, seeing as he didn't know anything but her name.
"I'm looking for the same books you are, it seems. What a coincidence, right?" she said, smiling... and possibly manipulating him to figure out why on earth today, of all days, he was checking out every Greek book in the library.
Maybe he worked there. It didn't look like it, but perhaps he was putting the books back. She straightened her shirt and tucked a few flying hairs behind her ear.
He seemed nervous, or something, but she wanted an answer– out of curiosity.

"A coincidence?" Lucas questioned "Maybe..." "Unless we are both looking for them for the same reason... That is." he continued. But he seriously doubted that. His mom died when he was two years old, he was trained to fight monsters until he was five by a she-wolf named Lupa, ever since then he 'd been running and hiding from monsters and just recently he was claimed to be a son of Apollo, now he was researching Greek myths to teach him more about his family history and to help him fight monsters. She for instance looked like she lived close to here and was researching Greek myths for like a school project. It had to be a coincidence. " And the books?" Lucas changed the subject "Why bring them with us? The library's close to empty, nobody is going to do something with them." he reasoned "We'll be back inside in about forty-five minutes, let's go."

Gheila found his reasoning to be sound, and yet his urgency to leave did make her suspicious. She looked him over quickly, searching for signs if he were in a gang or was going to cause her bodily harm. He was simple, wearing a normal T-shirt and jeans. He didn't look like he had anything hidden from her, and his face, other than nervousness, was blank.
What if he intended to lure her out of a public building so something could– Oh, now that was just silly. She was being obsessive.
"What are we going to do in those 'forty-five minutes'?" she asked with a skeptic raise of her eyebrows. She hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. "How do I know you're not going to mug me, mysterious Greek boy?"
Her enigmatic grin was instant. She could probably incapacitate him without much trouble, unless he knew hand-to-hand combat, which was certainly possible. What were the odds that she could get away if bad turned to worse? She could scream. She had a stable, strong voice.
Perhaps she could pick-pocket him before he had a chance to do anything. But if he was simply being friendly, then she'd be making a mistake.
If he was like any other boy she had met, however, he wouldn't mind if she played off it and acted interested. She didn't like doing that, but boys were sketchy creatures. Simple, but their mind was always on something else, and not always something good.
She sighed. Still as paranoid as ever.

Lucas realized that he was being sort of suspicious. "Mug you?" he chuckled "Why would I do that? It's just a chat! I swear!" "Feel free to check me for weapons! All I have is a bow and some arrows for killing monst-" Whoooops!

She laughed, because clearly he was being funny... right?
"Yeah, and I have a claymore mine in my back pocket," she said, amused. "Want to see?" she continued teasingly, reaching for the said imaginary explosive.
"It's for killing vampires." She winked and took out her library card. Gheila's smile was genuine this time and she waved her wrinkled reference sheet in front of his eyes.
"How about I finish looking for my books and you can check a few out. If you still want to chat after that, I'm game."
And she was.

Good news: she didn't believe him. Bad News: Now he was pretty sure it was a coincidence that they met and secretly he was hoping that she was a demigod too so that they could fight monsters together. 'Too good to be true.' he thought, and with that he sighed and started checking out his books.

How many books had he checked out that were hers? She was irritated again. She looked at the next book on the list and stuffed it into her pocket, searching among the shelves.
It wasn't there.
She checked the next book and found it, gratefully, still on the shelves. She pulled it off and flipped through it. Words. A lot of words.
She sighed– this would take time. She tucked it under her arm and found a few more of the books on her list, stealing a pencil and crossing out the ones she would check out.
Gheila stole a glance at the boy.
Did she really want to, actually? She wanted to read her books, not talk to him. Or did she? Did she want to?
What did she need at that very moment?
She wanted to find out what those words meant. She pulled the Dictionary of Classical Mythology by J. E. Zimmerman off one shelf and made her way to the check-out counter.
She slid the card to the blonde teenager behind the desk and waited.
There was no small talk.
He was watching her.
She was handed the books back.
She found an excuse. She hoped he didn't follow her home.

Gheila approached the boy, her books in her arms. "I just remembered– it's not exactly smart to carry books around in the open where you know, they could meet some harm?" She ended that sentence with another questionary tone, then moved on before he could get a word in. "I don't want to take the risk, really. I'd like to take these books home, and I really don't have a phone... so..."
She shifted the books in her arms uncomfortably and glanced at the cover of the top one. It was a ruddy red color.

Gheila sounded like she was trying to avoid him... But why? Was he a creep or something? All he wanted to do was chat with her about her history and maybe if she sounded trustworthy tell her that he was a demigod. 'Too risky?' Lucas thought. But maybe it would've helped her with whatever she was researching... Now she was acting weird like he was some sort of psycho maniac stranger. Well maybe he was a stranger but if they got to know each other he wouldn't be. He wanted to follow her back home but then he'd be a psycho maniac stranger stalker, and that did not sound like a good nickname! And then he made the biggest mistake he could have ever made in his entire life! He kissed Gehila! "I'm so sorry!" he grabbed his books "I'll leave now." he headed toward the door smacking him self in the face with one hand while holding the books under his other arm and silently cursing himself for being so stupid.

Gheila stood, dumbfounded, and almost dropped her books. Carefully, slowly, she dragged her arm across her lips and wiped it on her shirt. She watched his retreating back, horrified and glanced back to see if anyone had seen.
No one had. She rubbed her lips again, thinking that he had been impossibly rude and... and... A total simple-minded, moronic thug. She smacked her books down on a table and ran after him with such vehemence it was potent.
"You! You get back here– you... you... lowlife! Get back here!" She grabbed his shoulder and with a yank, turned him about and without any hesitance, even upon seeing his face, struck him across the cheek.
HARD.
Her force sent him reeling. She wanted to hit him again. Break his nose. Do something awful.
"You don't just– just... kiss someone, you creep!" she shrieked, and for good measure, aimed a kick at his legs.

"I'm so sorry" Lucas repeated "I didn't mean to"
And then he sprinted as far away as possible.

((exeunt Steven))

She watched his retreating figure with a passionate boiling in her very soul. She tried to conquer the feeling, but with little, if any, success, and it was all she could do just to stand and take it all in, mulling in the disgust and anger.
The bright clouds mocked her, but the sun seemed about right, with its oppressive heat that hovered, heating the air around her skin like its intention was to broil. She brushed her hair back impatiently and looked upon the ground with a criticism that was unjustified. She scuffed at the grass, imagining that he might take those books and use them to start a fire to attempt to warm his stone, acid heart. That made her angry all over again and she trudged back to the library's back doors.
They were locked. She closed her eyes and pulled again, then pushed, then raised her hands to her hair.
She didn't have the temperament or patience to walk all the way back to the front of the orphanage and through the halls again just to go through the unlocked library front door.
The orphanage library was excellent. Many books and a wide variety. It served as the whole town's library within good reason.
She plucked a pin out of her hair and crouched to work with the lock.
This certain one was quite difficult, but she knew she had a knack for picking locks. Especially with her type of pins.
It made a small click, and she opened the door cautiously.
No one.
She stepped through the door and went to where she had left her books, sitting among them and taking the first one up.
Time to read...


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