Ryugexu
Accomplished Bobbyer
Without Fear... I step forward.
Posts: 192
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Post by Ryugexu on Feb 1, 2009 21:20:56 GMT -6
[[ehehehe Zelos practice time now]]
Zelos was known intimately by only the group that traveled with him on the journey of world regeneration, which turned into the journey-of-screwing-the-system. Those people were the only people he cared about (aside from his sister and Sebastian), and sadly he was no longer with them. After the journey, Zelos took his sister from the Abby, but even with her around he felt alone constantly.
The red-haired chosen was staring out the window, ignoring the man in the room. You see, Sabastian was not just his Butler, but also his legal guardian. Sabastian noticed the distance that Zelos had been hiding behind sweet smirks and bringing girls around with him wherever he went, and so to help decided that Zelos needed to see a professional.
Zelos, on the other hand, believed he was being punished. The doctor could tell Zelos wouldn't talk to just anyone about the internal matters, so instead he prescribed a way to release his innermost feelings through creative medium. Clay. Wet clay was on the table, and Zelos was told to form it into whatever he was feeling. The main reason Zelos refused was quite unusual.
"I don't want to take off my gloves or mess them up." Was the Chosen's argument.
The doctor frowned, but then simply walked over to Zelos, "how do you expect to recover if you can't even look at your own hands?" she asked calmly, hoping he would look beyond his own mental barriers he often showed the world. The chosen glared at the tan mas on the table, cursing it with every fiber of is being. He felt cornered, and had no desire to talk to anyone, not even his closest companions whom had forced him to talk at times.
After a very long moment of silence, Zelos stood up and stepped past the doctor, taking off his long gloves and slamming his fists at once into the tan muck. It didn't take very long before Zelos was trying to form some non recognizable clay to be taller, perhaps he was sculpting a person?
It seemed that were the case, but Zelos destroyed it all at once and reformed it to be .....The Great Tree.
That tree, Zelos realised, was the thing he hated the most. That DAMNED TREE was what made their journey end. That tree is the reason Kratos left his son, and that everyone went their separate ways. Zelos didn't want the journey to end, he wanted to simply go on forever or die at some point along the road, to not bear the pain of distance.
Wasn't the point of my life to die...? Zelos wondered as he stared at what he believed to be a monstrous form on the table.
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Next prompt: Foreign Landscapes
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Post by ElliBleu on Feb 16, 2009 3:06:02 GMT -6
[[So.... I don't recommend trying to trudge through this one if you're on a schedule. Who knew fish were so talkative?! Sorry it's so looooong. X3;;]]Her fingers hurt, but at least they weren't bleeding anymore. Or maybe that was bad, having the cuts and scrapes so full of dirt and grit. Well, anyway, at least they weren't bleeding anymore- the blood made her hands slippery, her grip on the rock uncertain. Rielle paused, shifting her feet slightly to ensure her toes had a firm standing place before daring to pull a hand from a crevice in the rockface. She frowned again, looking at the torn flesh. It would heal, but was still bothersome. With a minute sigh the she-wolf ran her tongue along the worst of the lacerations, making a face at the coppery, salty taste of her own blood. Foolish pup, hauling herself up a steep cliff of razor-edged shale and uncertain footing. All because the changing wind made her think she had smelled flowers up above, and after days picking her way along the barren shores of a river the chance for some foliage- and the prey it might attract- was a welcome change. She had no idea where she was, had been hoping the riverbed would have made traveling easier. It did with it's dark shadows, but it was incredibly boring, nothing but rocks and that low rush of water. Besides, cuts didn't mean much to the wolf anymore. A few minutes later, Rielle felt her seeking fingers stretch along flat earth. A relieved smile flashed across her face, hooking her other hand over the ledge and hauling herself up with a grunt. She sucked down a few long, slow lung-fulls of air, curled forward on her hands and knees, before she rose onto strong but weary legs. The grin died at the sight before her, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open. A great waterfall sent a column of mist into the sky further down the cliff she had just scaled, ribbons of color suspended in the air above the churning waters. She sent silent thanks to Fenris for the urge to climb when she had, or the wolf knew she would have been left below facing a long day of backtracking or risking a suddenly wild river blossoming with the waters falling from above. A step forward and her sore feet met the cool cushion of grass, feeling the featherlight touches of flower petals skimming along her calves. They were everywhere, the flowers. Blocked out the green of the grass through most of what she could see of this multi-leveled valley. A carpet of tall red flowers, split by the river speeding towards the falls and the gulch below and the sporadic rising of the ground. Atop every new step of earth there were more of the plants, crimson petals spread in the sunlight. The wind picked up again and Rielle closed her eyes, reveling in the glorious cry of the waters and the scent of the flowers. It was wonderful and terrible, that sea of living blood. Before she realized she had moved Rielle was running- zigzagging and looping through the flowers, falling and tumbling and smelling the crisp, fresh smell of broken stems below the sweet haze. The world and it's burdens fell away, forgotten for the moment in the beauty of the earth that Fate had decided to let her remember. Foreign and unknown, but this was her world, this was the earth through a wolf's eyes. Untouched an untamed, flourishing only because of everything's own innate will to survive. On her back, she watched the clouds roll by through a frame of swaying red, sitting up to weave a crownlike bouquet into her hair. When the initial, overwhelming euphoria died Rielle again rose to her feet, flowers in her hair and a few grasped loosely between her fingers as she padded towards the river. The pebbles of the shore were cool and smooth, the water cold and soothing on her feet as she bent down to scoop some up to her mouth and drink. When her thirst subsided the wolf straightened, blinking down at her reflection. The flowers didn't suit her, she thought as she eyed the decorations poking out of her messy hair. Something so delicate and beautiful on someone so rough and world-weary. The mirror image broke when she threw the flowers in her hands down, watching them fly downstream. A splash in the opposite direction caught her attention, head snapping towards the sudden noise. The familiar urge to run welled up in her stomach but she forced it down. What would a wolf need run from here? A short walk along the bank and another splash echoed across the water as a shape shot out of the river, struggling to make it up and over a small waterfall formed by one of the many steps in the valley. Twice more Rielle watched the fish burst out of the water and try in vain to pass over the lip of roiling water. Three more times and Rielle had crouched down on the bank, a small growl of irritation coming form her throat. Such a pointless effort. Again it's scales flashed in the sunlight, hanging almost unnaturally there for a moment before falling short and flopping back into the river. "You foolish fish, what are you doing?" she growled lightly. Rielle jumped in shock when it replied. "I am going home, she-wolf."She tried not to flinch at the word. "I am going home so I might leave some of myself in this world before I die." It jumped again, and Rielle frowned at the scales missing from it's powerful, unhealthily pink body, even more shimmering as they were shorn off and swept away. "You fight so hard to go die, fish?" she questioned, skin prickling uncomfortably at the foreign concept. Had she been more familiar with them, Rielle would have sworn the fish had laughed. "Do we not all fight to live only to die, wolf? Because I can, because I must. It is the rule of all things, little one."Another jump, another failure. Rielle rose to her feet, irritated and incredibly saddened by the splendid creature's struggle. The fish disappeared deeper into the river water beyond her sight, it's voice still clear in her head. "The wolf does not help the salmon, pup. You may not aid me, this is the rule of things. The strong live on and the weak fall.""Please," she begged, inexplicably moved by the creature and this place. "Please, for should the strong not help the weak?"
Another could-be laugh, the great fish again glistening just below the surface but beyond Rielle's reach. "I shall tell you a great secret, she-wolf, for you treat me with such respect. The secret is that nothing knows to where life flows. That heart and thought are two different beings, joined in body but split apart. You think to help me, but in your heart, and in mine, we know you cannot. Life knows you cannot. There comes a time when yourself must help yourself alone, for if you help me over this fall then I shall just die at the next. If you help me over that and those after, then I shall only live long enough to have children who will die here to take my place. Life asks simply that we try."It arced out of the water yet again, Rielle watching, praying for his success as he hung suspended on the precipice of the smaller waterfall. The quivering body fought, and Rielle felt ready to cry as it crashed back down. It's voice was tired now. "I cannot make it. For me it is over. I have tried."Rielle whimpered piteously, staring forlornly at the strange creature slowly sinking into the murky depths. "No, please. Don't give up yet. One more time.""My thoughts cry to agree, but my heart is too tired. I have seen the great world, wolf, it's wondrous beauty and it's terrible ugliness. Just as you have seen here, the joy of life and the anguish of death."
Tears stung her eyes, and Rielle found she hardly cared she was crying for a creature she would normally have bypassed- or eaten- without a second thought. It seemed so profoundly wrong, for such a proud, modest creature to be denied it's purpose in a place that had given her such joy. The voice spoke again, the abrupt question making Rielle jump again. "You walk among man, she-wolf?"She nodded, failing to wonder how the fish had been able to see the reaction as he continued. "Man thinks he knows everything, yet knows nothing beyond his own world. For what can man know of the great whale in the belly of the seas, or of your hidden cubs deep in the safety of the forest? Man knows nothing of landscapes other than his own, little wolf, so do not let his eyes be yours." The voice was fading. Rielle snarled in sudden fear and anger, slappign a hand into the water. "Fight. By Fenris, fight!""There is too much fighting.""You said yourself, the earth only asks that you try. So you cannot give up, not when all you are, all you have learned and seen, will be lost unless you continue on and pass it to the future.""And what if the future holds as much pain as the past, little wolf?" the voice said sadly. "I go now to the greatest river of all."Tears ran openly down Rielle's cheeks now, slim shoulders trembling in melancholy for the fish and her own past, in fear for the memories of that greatest river he spoke of. "Please," she again pleaded, feeling as though something far too important rested upon this one moment, this strange conversation between wolf and fish. "We cannot know the future and we cannot change the past, so the present has to be so very important. Here and now, nowhere else. At least we can hope to make a better future. Please, you sang me your song. Taught me your secret. So do it now. Try."There was a great silence, and she felt it pressing eavily upon her heart. Rielle could almost picture that proud fish falling into the muddy bottom of the river, the shining scales breaking like dead leaves as smaller creatures took his body to aid their own struggle. A thin, keening howl tore the wolf's throat- a broken, sad note. 'Death. There is nothing but death!'
The river surface erupted in a shower of droplets, the salmon bursting from the water in a spectacular final leap. It soared, almost clearing the rapid. But still it landed in the churning water, hovering on the very edge of that precipice. It seemed frozen, as though the very will of of any that watched, any that followed it's story, could affect the outcome. Then connectedness of things, everything existing and influencing one another at all times. Rielle gave another growl, a wordless cry of encouragement. The very will of her wanting to help seemed to give it that last bit of strength and it cleared the lip of the falls and was gone, moving against the current back to where it's own parents had fought and lived and spawned it. Many had fallen and many would fall, but this creature, spurred by an eccentric she-wolf, would continue long enough to remake a small bit of it's extraordinary world. And again Rielle was on her feet, soon turned to pairs of paws that raced up the river bank in a flurry of flower petals. Her muzzle turned skywards, singing a song of joy and life and victory for any who listened. The world was cruel and dark and lonely, but there was so much beauty, so much wonder and life for any willing to see it. And so Rielle ran through that foreign field, burning the lessons the unlikely teacher had imparted into her mind just as the red flowers burned brightly amongst the grasses. -------- Next Prompt: Box
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Post by shadowofphate on Feb 16, 2009 17:39:58 GMT -6
<seems like i failed due to the size of it oh well>
Koled sat there shivering in the overly open plane it was. nothing was there just white even he couldn't if it was cold or hot. He walked and walked yet nothing to be found. Enough of this he mind started to turn to mush as he slowly felt to floor and started crawling towards what seemed like a small dot on the floor. hours passed as he came forth as he got closer it was a box, but this box was one of darkness that took in all light sound. He tried screaming but the box withdrew all his sound even from his very mind.
Soon enough he had gone crazy as rushed head long into the box to try and end his suffering. Soon enough a gentle breeze touched his wet lips as he laid face up on a sandy beach, covered in seaweed and shells. A man stood over him looking down "are you ok mister, it was good thing we saw that box and opened it up to see if anything good was inside of it." the man said with a smirk. Koled sat up and and threw off the shells and seaweed. "well I am to thank you dear sir but I must be on my way with my box."He said as he got up and walked away with box in hand thinking this was the last straw no more buying things that can hold more than appear from that old hag i all most died in there.
next prompt: a sweet taste upon thy lips
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Post by Admin on Mar 6, 2009 16:05:12 GMT -6
Revenge is sweet, yeah?
Mason sat on her throne – yes, a real royal throne, though Mason rejected the tradition of considering it something special or significant; it was nothing more than a particularly lavish chair that the Sarraa just happened to sit in when acting in a royal capacity. Anyway, she was sitting in her lavish yet less-than-comfortable chair and staring out at her dark, empty throne room without really seeing it. She wasn’t in the throne room in any kind of royal capacity or for any reason other than she was sick of staring at her office door. She wasn’t here for a meeting or a social event; she was just there to think, and to not think. Mason was alone there in the throne room that used to be her parents’ but was now hers. Alone with her thoughts. Alone without her thoughts. Though not really alone. Not technically anyway.
Mason was in a strange frame of mind. She was contemplating issues she had yet to deal with, yet not really thinking about anything at all. Her mind was empty but she knew she’d leave there with some new ideas. She was staring off into space, except not really. Really she was staring fixedly and absently at a spot on the floor some twenty feet in front of her. There was a crack in the tile. But it wasn’t just any tile. It was the tile within the great Blake royal emblem that held Mason’s title. It was the only cracked tile in the entire room. Mason wondered whose head had hit that spot and who had cleaned up the blood and brains. They’d used bleach; she could still smell it a little.
She had a passing thought that she was rather glad that vampires weren’t overly prone to superstition. Her people had enough problems with her at the moment without seeing evidence of divine or cosmic disapproval of her in a crack through her title on the floor. Still, she’d have it fixed. Her vampires came from all backgrounds and cultures and from all times in history. Some of them were bound to be stupid enough to hang onto their ignorant, human superstitions.
The throne wasn’t entirely empty. Jasper was with her. Somewhere. Lurking in the shadows. Giving her the semblance of privacy. She rarely ever had true privacy though. Except maybe on occasion when she was in her private rooms, and even there Adrian was usually around. But Adrian’s presence never bothered Mason. Jasper’s rarely bothered her much either unless he was being overprotective and bossy, which was becoming a more frequent state of affairs and Mason wasn’t sure she liked it. Mason had no idea when the large, intimidating, eerily quiet vampire slept. He was almost always with her, not trusting any of his subordinates to protect her sufficiently. Frankly, Mason didn’t really trust anyone else to do the job Jasper did either but she didn’t really need half as much protection as he liked to think she did.
One of the main double doors creaked open harshly breaking the still silence in such a way that it was obvious whoever was coming in was trying to be sneaky about it. Jasper clearly felt the same because he slid from the shadow of one of the columns at the other end of the room from Mason to stand in front of the door. Whoever was coming in was doing so quietly either for nefarious purposes or in an attempt to not disturb the Sarraa.
On some level, it registered in Mason’s mind that a possible threat was entering the room. On some level surprise registered at seeing Jasper in front of the door when the last place she’d sensed him had been behind the throne. That could have been five minutes previous or two hours, but she was a bit surprised she hadn’t heard or sensed her large bodyguard move. She must be more exhausted than she thought.
She faintly heard two men speaking and her recognition of Adrian’s voice and scent was almost enough to snap her back to present reality, but not quite. She was seeing the very essence of her parents in that crack. And she was seeing the old, cracked mansion they died in. The mansion she killed them in. There were phantom flames flickering in the crack that could have become real if Mason so wished it. She didn’t. There weren’t. The phantoms disappeared as Jasper stepped aside. Her parents were gone as Adrian began to approach the still figure of Mason leaning back in her throne, one arm dangling over the arm rest, the other holding her head up, her eyes blank and staring.
He saw where Mason’s focus was and gave the emblem on the floor a wide birth. His entrance hadn’t been acknowledged by the small woman in front of them in the slightest which was more than a little odd. Glancing questioningly at Jasper, Adrian asked, “How long has she been like this?” Jasper opened his mouth to respond then closed it quickly, his eyes on the throne to Adrian’s back. Adrian turned and saw that Mason had brought her head up and now her emerald gaze rested on the two men in front of her.
“Not long enough,” she said as she stood and stepped off the dais. Mason had long since ordered Jasper to forgo with the full formal bow, saying that he’d spend half his nights bent over if he didn’t. Still, he put his hand to his chest and gave a half bow so slight that very few others could ever get away with it. Adrian remained standing tall, his expression one of mild concern, his bright green eyes never leaving Mason’s delicate face.
Adrian had always considered Mason a creature of contrasts. The only thing that fit her was her element and that was really more the other way around. She was the fiercest woman he had ever met but also one of the most dispassionate and apathetic. She was almost always the smallest person in the room with her delicate, petite, tiny little body yet anyone who challenged her was a fool and soon a dead fool.
“Not long enough for what?” Adrian asked, giving up his musings and following her out of the room.
“To decide what to do to Romulus,” she replied lightly.
Adrian allowed himself a slight smile at her word slip. “Don’t you mean ‘do with’?” he asked.
Mason thought for a moment before saying, “Mmm, no, I mean ‘to’.”
Running to catch up, he stopped in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders to stop her as well otherwise she’d have probably just walked right around him. Had he been anyone else, Jasper would have thrown him across the room for touching her without permission, much less restraining her as he was.
“No, Mason,” he said, “you don’t want to overreact here. What he’s doing is perfectly normal and usually dealt with through negotiations and parties and treaties and making new allies and friends who can stab each other in the back a few centuries from now.”
Mason smiled and it was a dangerous smile. “Ahh, yes, but see I’d hate to waste all that time with fake friends. I’d much rather stab them now when it’s least expected.”
“Mason, think about this. It’s only a couple of the outer Houses and is to be expected. You’re new to the throne. He’s only the first to do it. Don’t overreact.”
Her smile dropped. Adrian should really know better than to tell her not to overreact. “Oh, trust me, I won’t overreact. I will react to this uncalled for and cowardly attack exactly the same way Blake coven has always reacted. I will crush the sniveling little worm and anyone else who follows his lead. I will not be played with. I will not be tried. I will not be tested, Adrian. When someone pushes me, I will shove them into the grave they just dug themselves and set it on fire. This coven was feared and respected last year and I’ll be damned if it’s not feared and respected just as much this year,” Mason finished, her eyes snapping.
Adrian was silent for a moment before saying “I thought you didn’t know what you wanted to do to him.”
Mason’s anger fled and she almost laughed. Almost. “I didn’t,” she replied. “I guess I just needed to talk it out with someone. Thanks for listening, darling. Though I still don’t know how I’m going to crush the bastard…”
Prompt: Meeting an old friend after years apart
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Post by Netreemic on Mar 6, 2009 19:51:49 GMT -6
[[ugh...I have no clue...please excuse the drivel]]
“Would you like to see something interesting~?” The shadowed figure glanced around the corner of his hood. He took a deep breathe around his unlit cigarette and blew it out in a glowing orange haze, lightening the lower portion of his face and cheekbones. Settling next to him, a woman crossed her legs and drew a large tome from her bag, resting it on her lap.
“Curiosity, surprising to see you here. Thought I was old news~” Thin fingers drummed a staccato on the warped wood, another blaze of smoke streaming from his thin nose. The woman remained silent, stroking the leather binding with a catty smile. A single nail swirled across the cover, the light creaking of the ancient leather filling the silence. Chomping down on the butt of his cigarette, the man growled, “Could you get to it today Rios? Not like I have all the time in the world to sit here.”
“Oh, come now,” she purred, sliding a hand to cover his frantically tapping digits, trying to ignore how feverish his skin felt. “I’ve wandered this city. You have these mortals scurrying like caffeinated cockroaches, nearly rabid to complete their lives before the sun rises. You just need to lean back and soak it in. Consider it a favor that I am offering to fill your time with a bed time story.” Her smile softened at his wearied grunt, “You haven’t been sleeping again, have you.”
“Your dreams still fascinate you, Rios. Not all of us are so lucky.” His uncovered hand gestured vaguely. “These people may be on a rampage, but I am not far behind them.” A quiet sigh slid out with his next smoke filled breath. “Three burnt out this year alone, and I am soon to the fourth.” Wide palm settling against his chest, unseen eyes gazed beyond the pitch-black waves stretching for miles. The bent cigarette barely twitched as he whispered, “Have you ever wondered what it will be like?”
“Not enough to try it. And that’s saying something, Impatience.” Her grin had long ago faded off her face. Her fine boned grasp tightened on his hand. “I am not going to let you burn.” A choking, cynical laugh crawled out of the man. “We all burn Rios, in the end. I am sick of waiting for it. After all, there is no avoiding it.”
“Abandon has.” She turned, glowing eyes willing the other to listen. “He has for centuries. You are the twenty-second Impatience. I am the forty-fifth Curiosity. But he is the first Abandon.” Her fist thudded into the worn wooden slat, emphasizing her words. “We discover his secret, we discover true immortality.” The man’s movements stilled at her fierce words, shadowed visage turning to face her under the starless sky. “You found something.” It wasn’t a question. A century spent in and out of the she-demon’s life had taught him many things.
“I found something.” Smile finding her face once more, she drew to leather bound volume to rest where their legs met. “I found his missing pages.” Her heart pounded faster as she sensed the other’s focus increase. She knew he’d met Abandon once, seen the notebook peeking out. She herself had paged through it, years ago, unable to resist and had nearly been wiped out of existence when the ancient demon realized its absence. The equations, and most of the archaic script, had been too difficult to decipher, but she had a good enough head on her shoulders to notice the gap between page 137 and 142. With his tiny writing, she knew a mortal’s lifetime could be contained within those four pages. And who knows how much else. It had been her obsession for the last seventy years, combing every library, antique shop, and tomb around the globe. Interrogating any who had spent time with Abandon, discovering all the aliases he had ever used, trying to map his erratic travels. Then, it became so clear when the name Absalon was brought up two years ago. She remembered the word being scrawled in larger lettering, certainly written by a hand not Abandon’s, up the edge of page 137. Absalon. The same name, written by the same hand, that decorated the first page of the tome resting on their laps.
“I’ve had long enough time to interpret it. Seems some woman ripped out his pages and stored them with her version.” She paged through the ancient texts, tracing her finger along the crackling paper. “Well, from what I can figure…this was back when those Persians were having endless fiestas. Wish I had been around back then.” She sighed wistfully, “At least they left some intriguing things. But, importantly, they clearly had a way to wipe his memory, because that’s what the woman claims they did to him. He knocked off her husband, KFC’d his ass or something, and since she couldn’t kill Abandon she did the next best thing. It stopped his erosion, before he could off the rest, and himself, in a blazing glory. And he’d been really close too.” She looked up expectantly.
“You…you want me to…” He made a cutting motion with his hand, fed up with the insane direction this conversation was taking, nothing more than another one of her crazy plans. “It does not even make sense. Even if mortals had devised a way to do this, you said it yourself, he’s been alive for centuries. These Persians didn’t hit his restart button any other time. Are you certain you read it correctly?” He leaned over the text, frowning at the swimming squiggles. He’d never learned the mortal’s writing habits, took too long, but now he wished he had. Curiosity’s condensed version sounded strange…but if she believed it...
“Hmmmmm…” Both demons went deathly still as scarred fingers gripped their shoulders and another figure leaned over to peer at the book. “She really didn’t. See right here?” His dark hand eased off Curiosity’s shoulder to point at certain line. “That’s the ‘fire of the brain’ Brain fever if you must, but it seems he only got that near the end. It’s the cancer that got him. This guy died of a long-term illness; nobody killed him…especially not with fire, if I’m taking your crispy chicken allusion correctly. Perfectly innocent mistranslation.” He smiled thinly in return to Curiosity’s deer-caught-in-the-headlights stare.
“What do you want, Abandon?” The leaning man turned his attention to the man in the hood. Quirking his head, he tried to peer past the shadows, certain he recognized the voice. “Impatience? What’re you doing hiding in there~?” He tipped the hood off before the thinner man could stop his hand. “Oh, it is you~!” Abandon hugged the other man’s head with a strange amount of delight. The cigarette fell out of Impatience’s quivering lips, trying to hide his uncovered features from Curiosity. Hopeless gesture, he knew, but he did not want to deal with the time it would take to answer her questions…and he just did not want her to see. “Get off me,” the pale man ground out, trying not to wince as pieces of his flesh flaked off as the other man’s arms unwound from their position.
Surprise twisted the woman’s face, mouth shaping soundless questions. Gone was the raven hair bound in a ponytail, thick dark brows, even part of his ear. Replaced by shiny black, puckered scars spanning the dome of his head and crawling down his neck to disappear under his hooded coat and one eye milky white with blindness. “I told you, Rios, we all burn. Eight slow months,” he touched a gentle finger to the heated flesh around the scars. “an inner demon to torment a demon, mine is drawing out each moment. Fate has a sick sense of humor, wouldn’t you say Abandon.” He looked straight ahead, sensing the other man’s understanding nod.
“It is different for each. Mischief’s convinced him everyone was playing a big joke on him…so he decided to have the last say. Hear he melted some icecaps when he died.” Curiosity glanced between the two, clutching the book to her chest, quickly realizing things were not going how she expected. She stayed silent, intent nonetheless on where the conversation was headed. “I was offered something that would never leave me. I just had to cut loose and I could come home, it said.” Abandon shook his head, eyeing the book suspiciously. “But I think this little lady already knew that. I know you can correctly interpret that.” His words became icy. “Just as you and I know he cannot read, cannot see that you are twisting the words to fit your purposes, cannot accept that you would turn him into your guinea pig. And you found something interesting enough to test out. It isn’t worth it, no matter how much you lie to yourself.”
The woman was ten paces away in a flash, rage marring her features. “You are the one lying! Why should you be the only one to get it?!?! What is more special about YOU?! Why is it wrong that I’m trying to get it for the rest of us?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT! TELL ME! Everything I’ve learned, found, discovered…removed from the world forever? While you ghost along, rubbing elbows with idiotic, meaningless mortals, recorded in their books as some sort of hero?” She shook the tome furiously, rattling pages free. “Your little notebook filled with descriptions of their favorite foods, what worthless scum you spent the summer sucking abandonment issues from?!?!” She let out a hysterical laugh. “You have amazing mathematical skill, HUNDREDS of years you could have spent collecting information, you could have wiped out OUR demons centuries ago, we’d never have to burn again if you would just FOCUS!” She panted, body shaking, sparks snapping out of her glowing eyes.
Abandon stared at her frostily and opened his mouth to respond, pausing when thin digits gripped his wrist. “I will deal with her.” He rocked on his feet, the scarred demon’s feeling of betrayal coursing up through his arm. And the burning flesh. Pulling the slim man to his feet, the dark skinned man shifted to the side. It’s happening again, Abandon bit his lip, knowing it was already to late. Impatience slowly raised his gaze to the quaking woman. “Rios-”
“I was doing it for you! And everyone! He has this memory loss in place already, it is his leash…but he’s twisted it to help himself. What if WE could do the same? These humans have all kinds of medicines. It could work! You have to believe-”
“What? That I want to forget you?” She sucked in a startled breath, his sad smile becoming pained as the dry skin stretched over his cheekbones cracked. “That immortality is worth you disappearing and not even knowing what the emptiness inside is longing for? That everything would be fine even if I couldn’t write down my life and pick up where it left off when…if…I survived having my brain eaten from the core? You’d see how it works, collect your information, and that would be that? Have you ever really known me? I may act sooner than is advisable, but I’m not stupid. Maybe I don’t want to escape my end…I’ll never have to wait for you again.” Curiosity stumbled back as though physically struck. He slowly walked forward, closing the gap as she remained frozen. Plucking the book from her nerveless fingers he absently tossed it in the direction of the hovering man. Fear washed the anger off her face as his feverishly warm hands cupped her face.
“Nonononono,” she babbled, tears leaking out of her eyes wide with terror. Just say yes. You want to see the otherside. “Nononononooooooooo…” She sobbed as his scalding lips brushed her forehead, trying to drown out the whispers. “I’ll win, I’ll live forever, I’ll find out everything. I don’t need you! You are weak! You’ve never done anything!” She screamed furiously, digging her nails into his arms.
“I know something you never knew. I’ve felt something you’ve never felt.” His eyes unfocused as sweltering welts boiled across his neck and blackened cracks split his once handsome features. His quaking arms dropped from her face, desperately clinging to her shoulders. She changed her hold on him, trying to shake him out of his pained haze.
“TELL ME! I WANT TO KNOW!” She pounded her fists into his chest, desperate to hear his secret. She batted at the flames licking along his body, her own hair crackling and snapping in the blistering air.
“I-I’ll do beh-behetter t-than that.” The words whispered out with his heaving breaths. A final smile cracked his lips at her raging curses. “YOU CAN’T KNOW THINGS I DON’T! YOU CAN’T! YOU BASTARD, I’M NOT LETTING YOU SEE THE OTHERSIDE BEFORE ME!” Letting his head fall limply on her shoulder, the air surrounding them shimmering at the boiling heat coursing from his body, he whispered in her ear. “I’ll show you, love.”
A deafening clap rent the air, the explosion flaring like a second sun in the darkness. The nearest buildings evaporated along with the pier and miles of water. Abandon sat on the crumbling cement, Hellfire parting as it roared past him, blast of pure force snapping through the pages of his opened notebook. The explosion snuffed out quickly as it started, waves crashing to fill the emptiness, steam and mist fogging the air. He clicked his pen, the sound thundering through the deathly silent night. And so passed the twenty-second Impatience and forty-fifth Curiosity. Seventh case of a destructive relationship between reincarnations of said demons. Keep eye out for next two. He carefully placed the tome within his bag, grimacing at the thought of carrying record of his worst memory. Rising to his feet, he took one last look. The ocean breeze was quickly dispelling the sulfuric scent and particles of buildings, everything looked almost normal. The empty harbor town was now just a bit…emptier. He let out a tired sigh, eyes lingering on the darkest spot on the pitted cement.
“Until next time.”
Next Prompt: uh…Hershey’s Bar? *wants me some chocolate* owo
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Post by ElliBleu on Jun 9, 2009 22:45:00 GMT -6
It was with rather apparent confusion that Gwenaeste stared down at the thin object in his hands. An unassuming brown rectangle, with a promising glimmer of silver at either end. An exploratory bite made him recoil, pulling a face as the paper melted and stuck to his tongue. Clearly that was incorrect. Even with his limited knowledge, Gwen was quite confident that humans didn't eat paper. They couldn't digest much, poor creatures. Though Gwen didn't care to revisit the time he'd eaten that tree branch. And then that old tome. So paper wouldn't be on the menu if it was avoidable. Restless fingers kept roving over the little rectangle, slipping a nail under the tear made by a fang and carefully peeling the wrapper and foil back. Humans certainly made everything terribly complicated, even just getting to their food. So many layers. A few more half-hearted bites had Gwen assured that the paper was definitely not meant to be eaten, folding it neatly and slipping it into a pocket. The unassuming brown foodstuffs inside the remaining foil didn't look particularily appetizing. Tucking a lock of black hair behind a delicately pointed ear, Gwen brought the candy up for inspection, eyes swirling a curious green. The children had seemed delighted to have this treat, but the smell was already making uncertainty cloud the initial curiousity. Quelling any further internal deliberation on the matter, Gwen closed his eyes and bit down heavily on the candy. It broke apart with a low, easy snap and started to melt immediately on the dragon's unnaturaly warm tongue. Gwen would have growled in alarm had he not been sure it would have just spread the horribly sweet goo further across his mouth. It made his stomach tighten in distaste. The sweet, milky taste was far too much for his draconic palate, used to bitter and hot and bland. He curled his tongue in on itself, tryign to contain the flavour and swallowing thickly. A momentary thanks was given that at the moment his throat wouldn't have to work to force the chocolate down the long throat of his dragon body. With a grimace, Gwenaeste dropped the remaining candy in a waste bin and turned his attention to the foil wrapping. It was quickly folded into a small square and eagerly placed onto his tongue, a satisfied prruum rumbling in his chest at the metallic taste reminiscent of the mouthwatering coins hoarded away. Maybe the humans weren't an entirely lost cause. ------------------ Next prompt: Peace
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Post by Netreemic on Mar 5, 2010 21:09:51 GMT -6
Jören rolled off the inner tube and flopped graciously into Castaway Creek. Good rejuvenating rest, if a tad dull. Drifting under the sunlit palms, bumping off the walls directing the swirling waters…good times. Sometimes it was nice to just take it easy. Flinging his head back, he whiplashed his hair and earned himself a couple flirty looks from the ladies. The stay in Florida had tanned his northern paleness away like magic, despite his excessive amounts of sunscreen (wasn’t going to loose this one to skin cancer, no sir), and he had to say his body was rather snazzy. Abandon had told him to stop posing in front of the mirror. The demon was clearly jealous. Speaking of Abe…where’d he wander off to?
Handing his inner tube to one of the girls, and flashing a final smile, he worked his way up the stairs to the walking paths. If I were a demon stuck in a water park, where would I hide~? Swimming with the sharks perhaps. The companionable predator? Or some of the more thrilling slides? Jören just hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep on the lazy river and drowned…or something incredibly stupid like that. But this was Disney World…nobody died on Disney property. Dreams really do come true here~ He snickered before ambling his barefooted way down the path. A low thunder rumbled and hundreds of excited screams echoed from the wave pool, eager bodies preparing for the onrush of the enormous wave. He chuckled, remembering how terrified and confused he’d been the first time it had happened, thinking some monster had broken in and was killing everyone. It grew on him over time as the humans repeated it every single time…like it was still a surprise. Adorable.
His hazel eyes followed some wildly screaming children dart past, rushing to collect around the food stand. Ohohoh….not just any old food stand. Oh no, this was an ICE CREAM stand. A happy bounce livened his step as he eagerly joined the cue. He ogled a bin of tasty treats walk away. Eyes flicking from the appealing sight he read, Garbage Pail - Chocolate and vanilla ice cream, waffle cone pieces, cookie pieces, chocolate and rainbow sprinkles, hot fudge, caramel, strawberry sauce, whipped cream, nuts, and a cherry. Oh yes please. Finally reaching the cashier housed in the ‘surf shack’ he slapped his soggy bills down exuberantly. “One o’ those big buckets of goodness please~!” He got a ‘what are you- five?’ look from the tackily dressed employee, thinking, two years ago, yeah I was.
Returning to his circular journey, he shoveled (it came with a little plastic shovel…how could he resist?) mounds of sweet frozen delight into his mouth. Glancing at the giant map stretched between the wooden posts, the blonde really had to wonder how he hadn’t realized sooner. Shaking his head, he redirected his steps towards the exit. Rounding the foliage filled corner, the Lost Child care area came into view. A bemused attendant was watching three little rugrats…and one slightly larger than average. She looked up as he slowed down, happy smile stretching his face. “Come to reclaim someone?” The group continued constructing the colossal sand castle, complete with turrets and bridges leading to the nearby picnic table. “Yes. I’ll take the biggest one you’ve got.” He winked before raising his hand to his mouth and calling out “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe~ I brought foooooooooooooooooood~” The pail was wiggled in demonstration, “Or at least a snack…since you’ve clearly eaten. Such a naughty boy…eating real food before desert.” A smirk wormed onto his face as the darker man finally glanced up at that, smiling as well.
“But Mooooooooooooooom…the guys ‘n me are having fun~” The other children picked up on his whining and quickly latched on, turning tearful eyes on the abductor. One even threw a glob of sand muck at him before the attendant reprimanded the miniscule critter. Brushing the sand from the bottom of his trunks (and gently removing the clinging limbs of his fellow lost children), the demon bid them farewell, “Today was fun guys. I gotta go, or I’ll be sent to bed early. Enjoy the rest of you day Traci.” He nodded at the attendant, falling obediently behind Jören, peering hopefully over the shorter shoulder at the frozen treat. “Do I get ice cream now~?”
“Dunno…you left me high ‘n dry in Castaway Creek. I might just eat this all myself.” He deflected the scarred hands from reaching the bucket, continuing to nibble waffle cone pieces.
“But-but…What if that body has diabetes? You may be poisoning yourself.” Blue-ish lips stretched in a victorious grin as the pail was shoved into his arms.
“I hate you.” Muttering obscenities at each other, the pair wandered down the pathways, growling and grinning around the sugary treat. A strange peace amongst the centuries of survival.
Next Prompt: Redecorating
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Post by Kendra on May 31, 2010 0:35:03 GMT -6
[Does redecorating someone's face count? Thought I'd give the background on how David ended up in the hospital in Existence]
Crowded stands, bright lights, sweating bodies, echoing buzzers... it was a sensory overload for even a normal person. People always came back from competitions exhausted, even those who did not compete. It was the social strain, the massive sensory intake, the emotional involvement, the excitement. Adrenaline, testosterone, and expectations built like a tangible force. David felt it like a growing energy. His head ached with the effort to block out the blinding lights, deafening sounds, and brimming hunger. Why did he do this? Every competition seemed to get harder and harder. He could just quit the team. Martial arts was far easier on his self-control. He didn't need to keep wrestling too.
He nearly stumbled forward as someone bodily launched into his back, bumping his shoulder in an overly enthusiastic friendly greeting, and he remembered what he came here for. Forcing the beast down like a bitter vegetable down the throat, David turned to face his closest and dearest friend, Mark.
"Hey, man," Mark said, a little nervousness hidden in his voice. David didn't say anything about it. It was a guy thing.
"Hey," David replied as they clasped hands in a hardy handshake. "You ready to kick some ass?"
"Yeah," Mark smiled, finding David's confidence contagious.
"Good," his friend smiled back. "Because you're up next."
"Yeah," Mark replied, nervousness returning. He looked across the mats at his opponent. Champion of their rival school. "What's your take on this guy?"
"He goes for the weight," David advised. "Doesn't have the speed. You can take him if you go low, but watch out. He likes to play tricky." David wasn't really so sure Mark could take the guy, but some encouragement wouldn't hurt. Besides, his chances weren't that bad. Mark was second only to David in class rank, and David felt as though he didn't really count, supernatural strength and speed making his spot as champion unfairly obtained. Mark was better than his opponent in skill, but the guy played dirty and Mark tended to be too trusting. He always played by the rules and expected others to do the same, so the dirty players always took him by surprise. "You can do this," he said, letting his voice brim with all the confidence he could muster.
"Yeah," Mark said, his steps coming a little bit lighter. "I can."
He gave David a slap on the shoulder as he was called into the ring, leaving his friend to watch from the sidelines. David assessed the pair with the cool, knowing eyes of a predator as the ref started match and the two started circling the mats.
As David had suggested, Mark rushed in for a low attack, catching his opponent at the waist, knocking him to the ground. He was already going for the pin and David readied himself for the cheer, when he caught a glimpse of the guy grabbing his friend by the belt with one hand and pinching the fingers of his other hand into his neck. It was too subtle and too fast for the ref to notice, but David saw it, and the cheap move allowed him to get a leg under Mark's and sweep him back to a thump on the ground next to him.
He rolled over before Mark could react, twisting him into a submission move- straddling him facing the feet and pulling up on his legs, bending his back so that there was no escape and he'd have to tap out to avoid a broken spine. Mark squirmed, but the hold was too good, and with a scream of pained defeat he raised a hand to tap out, but held it in the air, unwilling to give in.
Instead, Mark shoved both arms hard into the ground to give himself some lift and tried to yank one leg out of the hold. The maneuver worked, but rather than let go as he was supposed to, his opponent clung to the other leg and brought it down over his knee, snapping it.
The ref blew the whistle as Mark screamed and the entire crowd seemed to simultaneously gasp and fall silent. The ref started to move in to break the opponents up and get the medical team in to look Mark over, but David was already on the mats.
He was furious. He'd seen the cheat use an illegal grab to flip him over, and then unwilling to admit defeat he'd followed through with that blow to the knee. His cheap move hadn't won him the match, so he'd rather be disqualified than overtaken. That was something David just wouldn't allow. He'd hurt his friend, his mate, his pack.
Fury brought him onto the mat before the guy even let go of Mark's leg, and David gave his shoulder a swift jerk back, forcing his weight onto one leg, toppling him off balance, and then swept that leg out from under him, sending him flat on the mats on his back. He forgot to tuck his head, and there was a heavy thunk as he hit the ground, but David didn't pay him any heed.
He started laying into him. Easily pinning him down and driving one punch after another into his face, losing himself in his rage as the referee attempted to pull him off. He lost track of his surroundings. The sounds, the colors, the smells... everything blended together into red. He didn't even realize he'd tossed the ref aside, didn't even realize he'd shaken several of his teammates off, didn't even realize the number of eyes that were on him as he pulled the guy up just so he could punch him back down.
Finally, his coach knocked him over, and David looked up at him with a feral hunger, ready to lay into him next as he felt his teeth grow sharper, pricking his tongue, but then Mark's hand was resting on his arm and he looked down at his wounded friend.
Rage was replaced with sorrow, and he choked the beast back down like a forced drink, taking a few deep breaths to get everything back under control.
"Hey," Mark said breathlessly through the pain. "Chill man. It's alright. It's just a broken leg. I've had worse."
His senses came back to him and it was as though everything caved in on him at once. The gym was silent. Everyone was watching him. Some held hands over their mouths in shock. Some took a few steps back. All eyes were filled with fear, and he could smell it. The gym was rank with it. David gulped back the predatory hunger and shut his eyes, taking deep breaths again and bringing his mind to a blank, focusing on absolutely nothing. Clear. Controlled. Nothing.
"I don't think he'll be breaking anymore legs any time soon," Mark said with a forced smile, and David scoffed as he looked back at his friend.
"Yeah," he replied. "And I reckon I won't be in school any time soon."
His coach stood over him and placed an authoritative hand on his shoulder, seeking to take control of the situation and ease everyone's anxiety. David understood, and he didn't try to fight it as the man led him out of the gym.
Next prompt: High Expectations
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