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sweetsalome She left second year of college, for no apparent reason except to go. One day her things were in her room, sheets comforter, clothes hanging up in the closet, and then one day they disappeared. Her room mates questioned each other and the RA about the disappearance but no one seemed to have any clue as to why she just up and left. She seemed happy, she was doing decently in her classes, and was looking forward to summer break, talking wildly about spending all summer by herself on her boat down south. Of course no one really believe her, about the boat thing, the disbelief was founded in jealousy and facts based in that are always easy to dismiss.
That had been ten years ago, and any room mates or friends she had made in school had long forgotten her name and appearance. It's something people do when they are smacked in the face with real life, forced to divert their thoughts to other things like bills and house payments. She wasn't looking to be remembered anyway, she simply wanted out. As if the whole thing had been one long roller coaster ride and she had more then enough. Yes, thank you, stop the train please. So she ran away.
She sent for John Baptiste when he was six years old, under the impression that a six year old would be smart enough to adapt to the environment she had picked for her escape. Gavdos has a yearly population of forty people. It's isolated, desolate, and beautiful. The house was already there, but just needed some minor repairs which she paid for, turning the four bedroom ranch house into something respectable to live in. There was little to do all day except tend to the ragged garden out back, and ride horse back around the island, which could be done in a matter of hours. By the end of the first year she could navigate the whole island blind folded, or drunk, which she some times found herself more often then not.
It was when John Baptiste arrived did she finally clean up her act. The boy hated the island, he hated the house, and he hated her for dragging him there. For weeks her cried in his bedroom, sobbing dramatically into his pillow, lonely and homesick for his friends and his school. He liked it back home, and she was a rotten bitch for bringing him here. She didn't flinch at his words, or when he lashed out at her in his tantrums. Instead she sat with him and stroked his back, and his hair, letting him vent his frustration in the pillow he had nearly beaten flat.
As soon as he got over himself, she taught him to ride and introduced him to the other boys on the island. Life was good as they learned to live with each other once again, when they got use to the long silences and sometimes dull days on the island. In the tourist season she opened up the other rooms of her house and her land to campers, and translated for lost English speakers who ended up there. During the off season she sent John Baptiste to a school in Crete where he seemed to make friends easily and stay out of trouble. For the most part.
He's fourteen when she beats him like her father use to beat her. The school calls her and tells her that there has been an incident and he, with a group of his friends, has been found guilty by his peers. He is suspended until further notice. Apparently the group got a younger girl drunk and terrorized her, along with other things the headmaster told her, "wasn't appropriate for women to hear." That's all she needs to know.
John Baptiste tries to protest his innocence, but she hears none of it, knocking him on his ass with the back of her hand before reaching for the riding crop on the wall next to the door. It's not until the second smack does he roll over on to his back to take his punishment more soundly. She doesn't say a word, the only noises are the sound of the crop against bare skin, over ridden by his screams. Her arm aches by the time she's done and she drops the whip and walks to him. Grabbing a hand full of his dark, curly hair she yanks his head back, her voice hissing in his ear. "You are not a monster, so refrain from acting like one."
She leaves him in the barn to cry himself to sleep.
When he awakes, she has tended to his back and his comfortable in his bed, he is a bitter child though and refuses to look at her when she approaches. He feels betrayed, that she should take the school's side over his, but he never says anything about it to her. Over time the pain fades, along with the welts and the anger, but not the memory he never does anything like that again.
It is summer time now, tourist season. The island is lit up at night by camp fires, and a fifteen year old John Baptiste tends the one in the front of their house while guests lounge about. Salome sits on the porch, rocking slowly, looking out at the land in front of her, listening to the music that comes from the various tents and camp parties. This is her favorite time of year, when she feels young again and she smiles more. It is a beautiful night, and as Jonba sits down next to her with a huff, she smiles and leans over to kiss the top of his sweaty head.
" S'agapo."
"Ke ego s'agapo," he responds.
[ooc: So, ever smoke a lot of crack? Yeah, well I've been hittin' the pipe pretty hard lately and I got this crazy idea of "what would it be if she just left!" and so I made her leave and age to 30 years. I know, I'm cruel. This has no baring on any 'verses, and if your character wants to go out to Gavdos, drop me a line. I think it would be pretty cool, but then again I've got that whole "crack habit" thing going on. Yeah so I don't know if this is going to be a one shot or something I do when I am high.]
That had been ten years ago, and any room mates or friends she had made in school had long forgotten her name and appearance. It's something people do when they are smacked in the face with real life, forced to divert their thoughts to other things like bills and house payments. She wasn't looking to be remembered anyway, she simply wanted out. As if the whole thing had been one long roller coaster ride and she had more then enough. Yes, thank you, stop the train please. So she ran away.
She sent for John Baptiste when he was six years old, under the impression that a six year old would be smart enough to adapt to the environment she had picked for her escape. Gavdos has a yearly population of forty people. It's isolated, desolate, and beautiful. The house was already there, but just needed some minor repairs which she paid for, turning the four bedroom ranch house into something respectable to live in. There was little to do all day except tend to the ragged garden out back, and ride horse back around the island, which could be done in a matter of hours. By the end of the first year she could navigate the whole island blind folded, or drunk, which she some times found herself more often then not.
It was when John Baptiste arrived did she finally clean up her act. The boy hated the island, he hated the house, and he hated her for dragging him there. For weeks her cried in his bedroom, sobbing dramatically into his pillow, lonely and homesick for his friends and his school. He liked it back home, and she was a rotten bitch for bringing him here. She didn't flinch at his words, or when he lashed out at her in his tantrums. Instead she sat with him and stroked his back, and his hair, letting him vent his frustration in the pillow he had nearly beaten flat.
As soon as he got over himself, she taught him to ride and introduced him to the other boys on the island. Life was good as they learned to live with each other once again, when they got use to the long silences and sometimes dull days on the island. In the tourist season she opened up the other rooms of her house and her land to campers, and translated for lost English speakers who ended up there. During the off season she sent John Baptiste to a school in Crete where he seemed to make friends easily and stay out of trouble. For the most part.
He's fourteen when she beats him like her father use to beat her. The school calls her and tells her that there has been an incident and he, with a group of his friends, has been found guilty by his peers. He is suspended until further notice. Apparently the group got a younger girl drunk and terrorized her, along with other things the headmaster told her, "wasn't appropriate for women to hear." That's all she needs to know.
John Baptiste tries to protest his innocence, but she hears none of it, knocking him on his ass with the back of her hand before reaching for the riding crop on the wall next to the door. It's not until the second smack does he roll over on to his back to take his punishment more soundly. She doesn't say a word, the only noises are the sound of the crop against bare skin, over ridden by his screams. Her arm aches by the time she's done and she drops the whip and walks to him. Grabbing a hand full of his dark, curly hair she yanks his head back, her voice hissing in his ear. "You are not a monster, so refrain from acting like one."
She leaves him in the barn to cry himself to sleep.
When he awakes, she has tended to his back and his comfortable in his bed, he is a bitter child though and refuses to look at her when she approaches. He feels betrayed, that she should take the school's side over his, but he never says anything about it to her. Over time the pain fades, along with the welts and the anger, but not the memory he never does anything like that again.
It is summer time now, tourist season. The island is lit up at night by camp fires, and a fifteen year old John Baptiste tends the one in the front of their house while guests lounge about. Salome sits on the porch, rocking slowly, looking out at the land in front of her, listening to the music that comes from the various tents and camp parties. This is her favorite time of year, when she feels young again and she smiles more. It is a beautiful night, and as Jonba sits down next to her with a huff, she smiles and leans over to kiss the top of his sweaty head.
" S'agapo."
"Ke ego s'agapo," he responds.
[ooc: So, ever smoke a lot of crack? Yeah, well I've been hittin' the pipe pretty hard lately and I got this crazy idea of "what would it be if she just left!" and so I made her leave and age to 30 years. I know, I'm cruel. This has no baring on any 'verses, and if your character wants to go out to Gavdos, drop me a line. I think it would be pretty cool, but then again I've got that whole "crack habit" thing going on. Yeah so I don't know if this is going to be a one shot or something I do when I am high.]
