Post by Anastasia Redheart on Nov 15, 2016 3:16:54 GMT -5
At the most distant end of the valley, between the rugged precipices, on the highest point of an expansive slope, was a gigantic building. It looked like a château, with its tall towers, thick sections and gems and jewels that encompassed the windows like silver garlands on a Christmas tree. The towers and dividers ascended the rock divider on both sides, and the top was secured with much more precious stones. A wide stone staircase paves the way to a tall wooden entryway, where two gigantic lions of marble protect the doorway. The sun's beams play on the delicate rich face of Anastasia Redheart; her eyes all of a sudden open uncovering the splendid green that is, and she see's the room washed in a pool of light, making the old symbols sparkle on the white dividers that encompass her. Between the symbols and a couple of family pictures, the mirror with its abstruse sheen gives the patina of age, reflecting the entire room. It is a provincial room with a couple of bits of furniture made by her Grandfather numerous years back. The "coo-coo" clock lets her know it is seven o'clock. She ruins herself by staying in bed for a couple of more minutes, looking through the windows at this great morning. In the painted pots, geraniums charm her sight with a substantial palette of colours, making a quiet feeling. The sun is up in the blue sky, feathered creatures are singing on the trees and the air is loaded with the aroma of the blooms. She props herself up and gradually abandons her bed. Her long delightful legs are covered in a caramel-like colour. Her long blonde tasty hair goes down and rests exactly at her bosom line. She takes a gander at herself in the mirror roosted on the divider and grins. She twirls her wonderful long hair with one finger. Her exquisite night outfit is a beguiling blue colour and suits her splendidly. Anastasia pours herself a nice tall glass of Vosne-Romanee wine. She then approaches the huge window on the divider, sipping her wine and gazing at the view welcoming her outside. She squints and starts to talk in a sharp but delicate voice..
Anastasia Redheart:"Drinking is a passionate thing. It jars you out of the normality of ordinary life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your psyche and tosses you against the divider. I have the inclination that drinking is a manifestation of suicide where you're permitted to come back to life and start everywhere throughout the following day. It's similar to executing yourself, and afterwards, you're reborn. I figure I've existed around ten or fifteen thousand lives now.
She lets out a bitter world weary smirk of amusement at this idea...
Anastasia Redheart: In my most noticeably bad lives, I've returned from the dry universe of depression by constraining myself to look hard, for quite a while, at a solitary superb thing: a fire of red geranium outside my window. And after that an alternate: a vision of the girl I was in a yellow dress. Furthermore an alternate: the ideal diagram of a full, dull circle behind the bow moon. Until I figured out how to be infatuated with my life once more. Like a stroke victimised person retraining new parts of the cerebrum to handle lost aptitudes, I have taught myself bliss, again and again... In the event that you live oblivious quite a while and the sun turns out, you don't cross into it shrieking. There's a beginning surge of help from the get go, then for me, in any case, a significant disengagement. My old suspicions about how the world functions are covered, yet my new ones aren't yet operational. The most racking strings succeeded: a crushing in the bones, dangerous sickness, and a loathsomeness of the soul that can't be surpassed at the hour of conception or demise. At that point, these desolations started quickly to subside, and I began to act normally again as though out of an incredible infection. There was something weird in my sensations, something incredibly sweet. I felt more youthful, lighter, more content in body; inside I was aware of a strong neglectfulness, a present of disarranged arousing pictures running like a millrace in my extravagant, an answer of the obligations of commitment, an obscure however pure flexibility of the spirit. I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more mischievous, tenfold more naughty, sold a slave to my unique abhorrence and the thought, in that minute, supported and pleased me like a fine wine."
She grins wrathfully at the cam, and quickly gets up and fixes her long lovely hair into a braid while taking a look at the mirror starts to talk once more.
Anastasia Redheart"However now here I am. I have touched base in LAW, after all I have been through. More difficulties anticipate me. Where it counts, underneath all our insecurities, underneath all our trusts for and convictions in correspondence, each of us accepts we're superior to any other person. Since its our convictions that are correct, our questions that are admissible ones, our apprehensions which are real. I see these pretty faces, and swimsuit models strolling around strutting their legs, asses hanging out like cattle presenting themselves and supposing they are above others. I'm the person who will change the way LAW is. I am here for one reason, and one reason just. To succeed. More than I ever have in all my years. I am not by any means the intimidated by a group of Barbie-doll impersonators. I will upset the way LAW should be. This is a humiliation without a doubt. I am baffled by they way it has been run previously, and I realised that I needed to make a move. This is a solid message to the whole LAW including that regrettable champion presently holding my crown. Your time has come, and counter wise thus has mine. A way to magnificence has unfolding and opened its books to me, and for you is a street of wretchedness and distress. You are going to witness genuine shrewd according to Redheart. Also with respect to Gabby Camacho; hold my crown and keep it clean my dear, in light of the fact that I will be desiring it quicker than you can ever envision. Also dear, clean up your demonstration, its unpleasant. You make me debilitated to my knees. Simply sitting here and contemplating my crown... MY CROWN, in the hands of somebody so horrible and appalling as you is excruciating. So recollect this face...You don't know anything about me, none of you do. But you are taking in your collective destiny welcome the Redheart Renaissance. A storm is coming an when the storm is over, you won't recollect how you endured, how you figured out how to survive. You won't even make sure, whether the storm is truly over. Yet one thing is sure. When you leave the storm, you won't be the same individual who strolled in. Here's one of the things I discovered a long time ago: on the off chance that you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses significance. It's similar to that old question around a tree falling in a backwoods, and whether it makes a sound if there's nobody around to hear it. You continue drawing a line more remote and more remote away, crossing it come what may. That is the manner by which individuals wind up going off the edge of the earth. Also that is the line whatever is left of you regrettable ladies in LAW will wind up drawing, and each of you will tumble off the edge of the Earth, like ants..."