Post by diamondxbutterfly on Apr 6, 2011 1:13:15 GMT -5
My name is Muze, Heldere Muze, which is Dutch for Bright Muse. I am 11 years old, and I am a Killjoy. I am fluent in Dutch and English, and I'm a killer bowler.
I don't remember the Helium Wars - was I even alive? - but I remember the fires of 2012. Well, I don't remember the fires, but I do remember that my dad died helping BLI try to put them out. We had lived in Battery City for as long as I could remember. I always thought that my father was a fireman, or something like that, but now I'm not so sure. I know my mother was a writer though, and it's because of her that I got the name Muze. Before BLI started cracking down on what was published, I would sit on the floor at her feet, amusing myself with my little wooden toys from Holland, and she was occasionally pet my hair and say "Klara, u bent mijn muze. Mijn heldere muze." (that translates into: "Klara, you are my muse. My bright muse.")
When my father died my mother collapsed on herself, becomming easy prey for BLI vultures. Before long the higher ups had her wrapped around their little fingers, loving to watch her run around trying to please them because she had nothing else to live for. Suddenly I was just a reminder of the life she no longer had, and I was pushed aside. The day I overheard her talking to Korse, giving him and BLI full permission to use me for experiments, I left. I was only 9 but I knew I had to get out while I still could. I'd heard whispers about the rebles who called themselves Killjoys, heard their exotic sounding names and the stories of the things they'd done to demonize themselves in the eyes of BLI, and I wanted to be a part of it. I didn't know how to fully leave though, and I couldn't by myself, so I holded up in an abandoned warehouse near the boarder of the city and Zone 1. I was there for a little over a year, but it seemed like decades, centuries even, having to stay hidden and living scared. My only company was a pilfered radio and the scraps I'd collected to create a makeshift bowling lane. I played myself every day for hours on end, repeating the process over and over until I could barely lift my arms. Finally, salvation came in the form of a stranded Killjoy.
It was late 2019 when she showed up, the overly bright, strange girl who's tag was Diamond Butterfly, but who insited everyone call her Ghost. We almost killed each other the first time we met, neither of us expecting another person in the warehouse, but it soon became clear that we were each other's escape. Days later we'd formulated a plan, and in the dead of night we went up to the upper level of the warehouse, found where she'd hid her telltale car, and redlined it out of the city.
The desert was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a long time. After years of monochrome, perfection, clipped tones, and people with dead eyes it was exilerating to feel the wind on my skin, the sand slipping through my fingers, and the colours and unabashed noise of the other Killjoys Ghost introduced me to. I'd finally found a place where I could belong. I was young, yes, though I'm almost 12 now, but I could hold my own. Especially after Bunny taught me how to use the rocket launcher!
Since I left the city I haven't gone back, and I don't plan too. It may seem like a haven to a lot of people, but to me it's hell. Out here in the zones I can be whoever I want, and when you're my age, that freedom is the most precious thing you have.
I don't remember the Helium Wars - was I even alive? - but I remember the fires of 2012. Well, I don't remember the fires, but I do remember that my dad died helping BLI try to put them out. We had lived in Battery City for as long as I could remember. I always thought that my father was a fireman, or something like that, but now I'm not so sure. I know my mother was a writer though, and it's because of her that I got the name Muze. Before BLI started cracking down on what was published, I would sit on the floor at her feet, amusing myself with my little wooden toys from Holland, and she was occasionally pet my hair and say "Klara, u bent mijn muze. Mijn heldere muze." (that translates into: "Klara, you are my muse. My bright muse.")
When my father died my mother collapsed on herself, becomming easy prey for BLI vultures. Before long the higher ups had her wrapped around their little fingers, loving to watch her run around trying to please them because she had nothing else to live for. Suddenly I was just a reminder of the life she no longer had, and I was pushed aside. The day I overheard her talking to Korse, giving him and BLI full permission to use me for experiments, I left. I was only 9 but I knew I had to get out while I still could. I'd heard whispers about the rebles who called themselves Killjoys, heard their exotic sounding names and the stories of the things they'd done to demonize themselves in the eyes of BLI, and I wanted to be a part of it. I didn't know how to fully leave though, and I couldn't by myself, so I holded up in an abandoned warehouse near the boarder of the city and Zone 1. I was there for a little over a year, but it seemed like decades, centuries even, having to stay hidden and living scared. My only company was a pilfered radio and the scraps I'd collected to create a makeshift bowling lane. I played myself every day for hours on end, repeating the process over and over until I could barely lift my arms. Finally, salvation came in the form of a stranded Killjoy.
It was late 2019 when she showed up, the overly bright, strange girl who's tag was Diamond Butterfly, but who insited everyone call her Ghost. We almost killed each other the first time we met, neither of us expecting another person in the warehouse, but it soon became clear that we were each other's escape. Days later we'd formulated a plan, and in the dead of night we went up to the upper level of the warehouse, found where she'd hid her telltale car, and redlined it out of the city.
The desert was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a long time. After years of monochrome, perfection, clipped tones, and people with dead eyes it was exilerating to feel the wind on my skin, the sand slipping through my fingers, and the colours and unabashed noise of the other Killjoys Ghost introduced me to. I'd finally found a place where I could belong. I was young, yes, though I'm almost 12 now, but I could hold my own. Especially after Bunny taught me how to use the rocket launcher!
Since I left the city I haven't gone back, and I don't plan too. It may seem like a haven to a lot of people, but to me it's hell. Out here in the zones I can be whoever I want, and when you're my age, that freedom is the most precious thing you have.
Yes, I'm still running - sort of. But it is lonely out here. Haven't seen anyone else for a while.
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