Unbreakable

"Again!"

Kallisto hated that voice. The shrill biting soprano that stabbed through the air each time she made the smallest error. That was the voice that shocked her from sleep in the wee hours of the morning. Tormenting her for any imperfection--imagined or others.

The music restarted and the young girl returned to position one. A deep breath in--she would not cry. No matter how her feet hurt or how the woman belittled her. She was Kallisto Ophelia Parkinson. Her great-great-great-great-(a lot of greats)-grandfather had been the Minister of Magic. She was a pureblood witch. She was unbreakable. She would not cry.

Up onto her toes she went, perfectly en pointe. Kali could feel the slender rod lifting her arms slightly. She responded immediately to the silent critique, not wishing to feel the sharp snap of the wood against her barely covered skin. Smooth, fluid, graceful motions brought her across the dance floor.

"Non!" the french bwitch bellowed. That shriek made the Parkinson cringe. Swat, swat, swat, the slender rod cracked against her thighs. Biting down on her lip, she kept in the shriek that fought to escape her lithe body. She must no show weakness. She must not betray the pain.

The string of French criticism came too fast in the foreign tongue for the child to understand. But the sharp encore that punctuated the string of words, its meaning was clear. With watery eyes, she went back to the center of the room. The girl did not cry. Her plastic smile did not falter. A few blinks of her long inky lashes were the only betrayal of any emotion that she felt.

This was not the first lesson or the last to go this way. Bruise cream became the porcelain skinned girl's friend quite quickly as she studied under this cold ballet mistress. But she did not cry. She did not quit. She did not complain.

Obsession

_{she'll infect you with her obsession, if you aren't careful}

Down the rabbit hole…she had fallen again. It happened more than she cared to admit. Always when she was running from herself—from the other person inside her. Perhaps she had inherited the affinity for obsession--but there was no god for Kali to devote herself to.

Her grandfather sought to give her one in the form of power. Miles began to introduce the young witch to the draw of dark magic even before she began her studies at Hogwarts. The wizard planted the seed in the girl, knowing that it would grow, for he saw much of himself in her. He, unlike most, could perceive the dichotomy of her persona. He could see and feel the son that should have been born, but had been consumed by the stronger sister. Most saw only Kallisto, but Miles—he saw the son neither of his sons seemed capable of being wearing the skin of a she-devil. The strength and versatility the witch display made the old man put aside his sexism and the chauvinistic thinking that had kept him from truly training Sierra in the dark arts. He gave his grandchildren his knowledge—giving the blue eyed beauty her first true obsession.

Obsession is a funny thing. The way it can creep up on you…sometimes you don’t even know it. That happened to Kali a lot… There was something broken in her…something extra—another side of herself that fought against her natural nature. It had always been there, with her. Not it…he. Her brother. The unborn, but not unmade. Despite having coexisted in the girl’s body for nearly twenty years, still the two wholes could not find a way to mesh together as two halves. It made for battle inside her mind—chaos and conflict.

By blacking out the world, Kallisto could achieve some semblance of peace—of quiet. It is impossible to know the value of silence to someone who has to lose herself in some obsession to achieve that reprieve from even her own self. There is no rest or silence in the still, calm moments for Kallisto. Her ‘brother’ keeps such peace from being found. No… She can only escape him when she loses herself.

Ballet—painting—sex…they all gave her an out. Something to give herself over to, so that she (and by extension he) would cease to exist.

Her war with herself also made for great adaptability. It was easy to wear masks, when you always sort of felt like you were donning one.

PINK LACE AND POISON Be careful, a demon could easily exist behind that beautiful face of hers…

In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication
they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory;
or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party

The Purists of the New Generation
Ambitious, Cunning, and Once Scorned

Blue Eyed Beauty
_{Songs of the Sorceress}

lady kallisto parkinson

she fears no evil,
for the shadow is hers,
and so is the valley

Finn & Kallisto
Don't matter what you say
Don't matter what you do
I only wanna do bad things to you
So good, that you can't explain it
What can I say, it's complicated

Kallisto Parkinson
No one loves me' neither do I
You get what you give,
I give goodbye
And if I should vanish
Don't get caught off guard
Don't hold it against me
Unless it gets hard

Kallisto Parkinson
All the things I'd do
To spend a little time in hell
And what I won't tell you
I'll prolly never even tell myself

I just need a way out of my head
I'll do anything for a way out
Of my head

Kallisto Parkinson
Taste me drink my soul
Show me all the things that I shouldn't know
When there's a blue moon on the rise
I had everything
Opportunities for eternity
And I could belong to the night