Just some more emo Casey. Just to clarify, Casey is not always emo. It's just easier to write her that way, and I needed an example of an intro post for a roleplay I'm joining. This one actually parallels the other one in some places. I wrote a Lady Joan one too, but it sort of turned out as...um...AU Joan? 0_o Moving on:
The wind pulled at her jacket, playing with her short hair and attempting to smother her with its clearly unwanted affection. Its chill brought tears to her eyes, and she ducked her head slightly and tried to gain a bit more momentum.
Casey had always liked bike riding.
She made a sharp turn at the tricky corner on Vineyard, trying to see just how far the junky old thing tilted this time. She wasn’t sure exactly why she had kept this one early-childhood habit all these years, even when so many other games of hers had died almost prematurely. She had always been into racing when she was little – in running, in video games, in begging her parents to drive faster – but she had thought that she had outgrown that. There wasn’t anyone here to beat after all, so what would be the point?
She managed to stop herself at the next intersection, but just barely. She absolutely hated breaking the momentum of the ride. The cars sped by, angrily racing to beat out the others while throwing smog and a lone crinkling Walmart bag into the air. It apparently didn’t take much to change her mind, as then and there she decided that racing was definitely not why she liked biking. The cars were noisy and dirty and so, so much like human beings. A year ago, she would have imagined that the things were involved in a drag race of some sort. This year the cars went far too fast for her, and she found it hard to see a point in their efforts. Of course, this had been a long year. She had had a father when she was in seventh grade, and a brother who wasn’t the unimaginative, egotistical wannabe he was now. Something in their dad’s death, she was sure, had killed any spark in him that would allow him to condescend to spend time with his eighth grade sister – he was a big high school hot shot, why would he? He just hadn’t realized that before.
Where are your games now, Jeremy?
The “walk” picture flashed, and Casey was off again, moving even faster than before. She really should have brought a better jacket, but that hardly mattered at the moment. As she glanced back at the plastic bag and the roaring cars one more time, she forced herself to remember that Jeremy hadn’t been the only one. One year ago, those cars would have been dragons. One year ago, she would have written story upon story about them with her brother. One year ago, she would have taken this bike to the top of a hill and soared.
Since when did she spend so much time thinking about what-ifs, the hollowness of society, and the character of her inner mind? She wasn’t old enough for this. So maybe she had read a lot…before, and maybe she had been forced to become more mature than others her age – her mother was just moving past the “wreck” status – but she shouldn’t be so damn introspective. And she shouldn’t swear, according to Mom. Whoops.
Of course…it definitely didn’t help that she was unusual in other ways as well.
She was nearing her house now; only a long, slightly sloping stretch of road stood between her and the goal. Goal. Such an insignificant word when taken out of context, but it had been beginning to irk her how much she used it in her head. Was that really how she thought of everything now? It was such a mundane way of living. Goal: Get to school on time. Goal: Survive lunch without Tasha trying to get her interested in some boy or another. Goal: Manage to squeak by with a passing grade on the math assignment. Goal: Survive another mall trip. Goal: Get homework done before bed. The only thing that didn’t involve a “goal” whatsoever was…well, it was her newfound little friend, the one who only spoke to her, would alter reality for her, and had an incredibly annoying sense of humor. Yes, she had found herself in contact with the Pixies…one in particular, and as much as she protested the forced involvement of her “fairy godmother” as he liked to call himself, she had to admit that the utter chaos was almost refreshing in a bizarre way.
She pushed harder on the pedals, imagining a satisfying slamming noise every time she pressed down. She was sick and tired of goals. How about… “Finish line?” Could she handle that?
Slam. Slam. Slam.
She pedaled faster, reached the crest of the slope and continued to pedal just as hard, leaning into the bike. The tears ran again, forcing her eyes shut, but she knew this road well. It was worth a try, this little bit of reconnecting to the old days. She thought she felt something, just maybe. The wind billowed, but she fought it with all of her might, images of gladiator battles jumping unbidden into her mind. But they only claimed existence for a flash, one suspended moment of greatness left on the road behind her. In vain she tried for another, but she knew that nothing would come if she forced it. She was tiring now; it would be too late…
Her Pixie’s simple words echoed in her ears.
“Kid, you and I’ll go on adventures. Real ones.”
A tingling spark ran down her spine and she felt her face flush. The corruption was as swift and simple as that. Just when it seemed as though it were too late, when she felt that this battle with maturity would be lost forever, she made contact with the heroic Casey of old, the one who obliterated her enemies and rode her dragons bareback.
She lifted her feet from the pedals, tilted her head back, and flew.
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