Persephone, the Destroyer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pummelgranite) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2016-12-28 10:37 am
pummelgranite) wrote in maskormenace2016-12-28 10:37 am
Entry tags:
- jaime reyes | blue beetle,
- john constantine | con man,
- jonathan crane | scarecrow,
- nico di angelo | n/a,
- wanda maximoff | scarlet witch,
- † carl grimes | n/a,
- † chato santana | el diablo,
- † chloe price | butterfly,
- † count dooku | darth tyranus,
- † doreen green | squirrel girl,
- † elliot alderson | mr robot,
- † frederick chilton | chief of staff!!,
- † inanna | queen of heaven,
- † kanaya maryam-lalonde | psychopomp,
- † kitty jones | n/a,
- † laura wilson | persephone,
- † miles vorkosigan | admiral naismith,
- † sam merlotte | n/a
009 | Video, xposted to all her assorted Social Medias
[ She doesn't show her face in this video. But the camera is facing a pomegranate resting in a well-manicured hand, so it's no big mystery who's morbid performance art the network is about to be subjected to. ]
So it's new years soon. 2017. Wow.
[ Does the fruit seem a little soft? Over ripe? ]
Made your resolution yet? Now pretend this will be your last New Years Eve. How's that resolution stand up?
[ It's obvious by now, the fruit is sagging in her hands, and a black spot of something is growing on one side. ]
No, more than that. Pretend it's someone you love's last New Years Eve. This'll be the last time they count down with the ball. Then they'll have their last bank holidays, their last birthday, last Halloween. Maybe they get another Christmas, but probably not. Maybe you should call this one the last, just to be safe.
[ As she speaks, the distending fruit splits up one rotting side, collapsing under its own weight. Remarkably blood-like juice runs down her hand and wrist. ]
How's your resolution now? Does it mean a fucking thing?
[ The flesh of the fruit itself is sloughing off now in disgusting clumps that splatter noisily on the unseen floor. ]
Death's coming. Not just for you, but for everyone you love.
[ When the whole thing is gone, she rubs her fingers together, feeling the viscous red slime the rotten fruit left behind. ]
Happy New Years. Memento-fucking-mori.
So it's new years soon. 2017. Wow.
[ Does the fruit seem a little soft? Over ripe? ]
Made your resolution yet? Now pretend this will be your last New Years Eve. How's that resolution stand up?
[ It's obvious by now, the fruit is sagging in her hands, and a black spot of something is growing on one side. ]
No, more than that. Pretend it's someone you love's last New Years Eve. This'll be the last time they count down with the ball. Then they'll have their last bank holidays, their last birthday, last Halloween. Maybe they get another Christmas, but probably not. Maybe you should call this one the last, just to be safe.
[ As she speaks, the distending fruit splits up one rotting side, collapsing under its own weight. Remarkably blood-like juice runs down her hand and wrist. ]
How's your resolution now? Does it mean a fucking thing?
[ The flesh of the fruit itself is sloughing off now in disgusting clumps that splatter noisily on the unseen floor. ]
Death's coming. Not just for you, but for everyone you love.
[ When the whole thing is gone, she rubs her fingers together, feeling the viscous red slime the rotten fruit left behind. ]
Happy New Years. Memento-fucking-mori.