Mage (one of five)
Nov. 20th, 2011 09:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aumentouLady Lief and I were going to run paired characters, antagonists to each other, in a Mage game. The idea wouldn't work in any context available, so it's canned (for the time being at least). As such, we're each posting the five background stories that defined the characters. This does of course mean I'll have to write the fifth, since I didn't get around to it, but then at least I won't have the nagging feeling of something undone. This being World of Darkness, there is naturally trauma and unpleasantness in the stories.
The stories are roughly paired, timewise. Certainly the first one is of the same event. Read in any order you like.
Her first story.
And mine.
The Incident
Some things you shouldn't have to see.
I was ten years old. We were in Argentina at the time. All of us. Mum and dad and me and Diana. I'm not sure where exactly. They told me afterwards the town was called Sastre, in Santa Fe (which is a province).
I didn't know at the time, and I didn't care. My parents were driving around being evangelical, and I was being evangelical with them and enjoying the break from being evangelical in England. It was fun, by comparison. I was a very serious little girl, with my parents' faith stamped into me, and even though it was a working vacation, it was still an exciting break for me. The rock and roll tour aspect (silly comparison I know, but we were sleeping somewhere different every night, and none of them were exactly luxurious) was fun, to my religious but nonetheless tomboyish ten year old self. I was young enough to enjoy it.
I never found out why it happened. The police told us it was a gang, making a mistake. Seems unlikely. Diana never said anything about it, but I was sure she knew something. We didn't talk about it much, and I've never asked her directly, so who knows? I suppose I could go back and ask around, but my spanish is rusty and frankly, unless they were Awakened, none of my "special skills" are going to be particularly useful. I don't even know which police officers to track down.
There was something wrong. We were in a rush, suddenly. Diana and I were told to hide under some blankets. Very serious. No explanation, just do it, no arguing.
We hid, the car drove. How far? Who knows? Distance is tricky when you have nothing to gauge it by but time, and nothing to gauge that by.
When it stopped, I realised it wasn't long enough for us to be at another town. I held my breath. I heard the car doors open. I heard my mum panicking and knew it was serious. The doors slammed. There was an agonising quiet. Then a series of loud bangs. Then other doors slammed, and some other cars drove off in a hurry.
I didn't know what had happened. I knew it was over, and that whoever had been there had gone. I was ten. I didn't recognise gunfire by sound.
Some things you shouldn't have to see.
The effect of an automatic weapon on a human body at close range is one of those. It's horrible when it's a stranger. It's worse when the person in question was someone you liked. It's particularly bad when the victims are the people who gave you life, and whose lives give yours all its structure and meaning.
I was ten years old.
I didn't black out. I don't think I screamed. I felt like I was hovering in the air. Below me, a little girl was looking at the mangled corpses of her parents. I was hovering, feeling the wind, wanting to let it just carry me away. Wanting to fly away from this horror.
-----
We did fly away from it, though later and more mundanely. Diana and I were taken away by police, put on a plane, and sent back to England. Back to England to live with the aunt and uncle I'd never liked.
The stories are roughly paired, timewise. Certainly the first one is of the same event. Read in any order you like.
Her first story.
And mine.
The Incident
Some things you shouldn't have to see.
I was ten years old. We were in Argentina at the time. All of us. Mum and dad and me and Diana. I'm not sure where exactly. They told me afterwards the town was called Sastre, in Santa Fe (which is a province).
I didn't know at the time, and I didn't care. My parents were driving around being evangelical, and I was being evangelical with them and enjoying the break from being evangelical in England. It was fun, by comparison. I was a very serious little girl, with my parents' faith stamped into me, and even though it was a working vacation, it was still an exciting break for me. The rock and roll tour aspect (silly comparison I know, but we were sleeping somewhere different every night, and none of them were exactly luxurious) was fun, to my religious but nonetheless tomboyish ten year old self. I was young enough to enjoy it.
I never found out why it happened. The police told us it was a gang, making a mistake. Seems unlikely. Diana never said anything about it, but I was sure she knew something. We didn't talk about it much, and I've never asked her directly, so who knows? I suppose I could go back and ask around, but my spanish is rusty and frankly, unless they were Awakened, none of my "special skills" are going to be particularly useful. I don't even know which police officers to track down.
There was something wrong. We were in a rush, suddenly. Diana and I were told to hide under some blankets. Very serious. No explanation, just do it, no arguing.
We hid, the car drove. How far? Who knows? Distance is tricky when you have nothing to gauge it by but time, and nothing to gauge that by.
When it stopped, I realised it wasn't long enough for us to be at another town. I held my breath. I heard the car doors open. I heard my mum panicking and knew it was serious. The doors slammed. There was an agonising quiet. Then a series of loud bangs. Then other doors slammed, and some other cars drove off in a hurry.
I didn't know what had happened. I knew it was over, and that whoever had been there had gone. I was ten. I didn't recognise gunfire by sound.
Some things you shouldn't have to see.
The effect of an automatic weapon on a human body at close range is one of those. It's horrible when it's a stranger. It's worse when the person in question was someone you liked. It's particularly bad when the victims are the people who gave you life, and whose lives give yours all its structure and meaning.
I was ten years old.
I didn't black out. I don't think I screamed. I felt like I was hovering in the air. Below me, a little girl was looking at the mangled corpses of her parents. I was hovering, feeling the wind, wanting to let it just carry me away. Wanting to fly away from this horror.
-----
We did fly away from it, though later and more mundanely. Diana and I were taken away by police, put on a plane, and sent back to England. Back to England to live with the aunt and uncle I'd never liked.
