Deprivation
Introduction
Author's Note: I suppose I'm a hypocrite on what I said, because this is obviously not a one-shot. Quite frankly, I have no clue where this is going. This is based on Sally Acorn's viewpoint, though in third person. I'd like some reviews before I continue, because I plan on branching this out into a nice, (short) multi-chapter story. I've always taken the more of emotional side of characters and turned them into 'unique' plots. I'm doing this because half the stories I even see about Sally mostly consist of knowledgeless bashing. Either way, I hope I myself translate the character good. Enjoy everyone, and please, I utterly beg you, leave me some feedback.
Disclaimer: Must I expand?
She cries on the inside over something she never had. She lives conventionally on the out, conquering every problem thrown her way, no questions asked. There was always duty. There was no denying that.
But there was something about that sunset; something about the children she had known; something about their laughter that always haunted the back of her mind. A persistent bother, if anything. A persistent bother pushed away by the threshold of stress and things of the like. Activities of life, basically.
There was work; there was society; there was worry; there was angst. And oh, how she suffered. Innocence quickly vanished with knowledge, though it was doubtful there ever was ignorance. She was expected to know all, a classic brain, per say. So much expected; so much required; such high expectations.
Great expectations, period.
Maturity was one of these expectations. There was a time, though barely memorable, when there hadn't been this in such an extensive amount. Nice times, nice carefree times….times that were taken for granted. But how could they be expected to be cherished? She had no clue what was ahead of her, anyhow. Helpless, helpless due to lack of age.
Then it happened and forever more, all that she had was lost. All she had vanished. There was escape, but hardly any. Escape led to more problems.
And sad, wasn't it? How the burden always fell on her shoulders. The planning; the preparation. She was expected to be a leader. She was expected to be the adult she physically wasn't; graced in knowledge and intelligence; always with a plan on hand in times of crisis. A brain that never stopped working, and an equal beauty.
Compassion was forgotten when in her presence. No one could relate, truly. No one truly knew how hard it was. What a struggle it had been in the beginning and what a struggle it continued to be. How it never seem to cease; how there was no one to confide her innermost thoughts to; her most hidden emotions. How she couldn't at the risk of her own reputation. The fact that she was dying on the inside, trapped within her own position; never to be free.
Sanctuary was as rare as a day of rest. Sanctuary was as rare as one carefree action. Sanctuary was as rare as the proclamation of world peace.
Was it wrong to say she longed for it?
There was that persistent feeling; that look in the depth of her sapphire blue eyes. So cryptic; so bizarre. Those moments when she was so pensive that silence was the best way to portray her thoughts. The silence that came natural during those immortal times; as the golden sun slowly descended from its position in the sky; as the rose atmosphere slowly faded to black. And the times that followed it, staring at that vacant, dark yet strangely inviting, whimsical night sky …