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    Pocket-full of Pain

    Share

    Alethearia
    Jaynestown resident

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Serenity Starfighter Corps : FSC Flight Commander
    Number of posts : 2149
    Location : STILL in a giant metal robot bent on DESTROYING the world! sigh
    Ship Name : USS Valiance
    USS Windsong
    Ship Registry Number : NCC-74109
    ....
    Ship Class : Intrepid
    Stormcrow
    Fleet Division : Starfighter Corps (The Fireflys)

    Main RP Character Profile
    Name: Angelina Eli

    Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Wed Mar 21, 2012 2:59 pm

    OOC: I just thought you guys might enjoy this. Been working on it for about a month now.

    Prologue:


    Last edited by Alethearia on Mon Mar 26, 2012 11:29 am; edited 3 times in total


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Alethearia
    Jaynestown resident

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Serenity Starfighter Corps : FSC Flight Commander
    Number of posts : 2149
    Location : STILL in a giant metal robot bent on DESTROYING the world! sigh
    Ship Name : USS Valiance
    USS Windsong
    Ship Registry Number : NCC-74109
    ....
    Ship Class : Intrepid
    Stormcrow
    Fleet Division : Starfighter Corps (The Fireflys)

    Main RP Character Profile
    Name: Angelina Eli

    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Wed Mar 21, 2012 3:04 pm

    The blindfold was off again only a few minutes later and I was told to stand still. I'd been unceremoniously deposited in gods-only-knew-where, and, just like every other time I'd been in gods-only-knew-where, it didn't look anything like it did last time. This time, gods-only-knew-where happened to be the Arena––at least, that's what I came to know it as.

    Brilliant, blinding light glared at me, though I couldn't find a source. I assumed it to be artificial, as it looked too yellow to be the sun. As I stared at the hazy glare in front of me I realized that it wasn't a coincidence that my blindfold had been removed. They had me in a controlled environment now. They could manipulate what I saw, no need for a ridiculous piece of cloth.

    A sudden wave of claustrophobia blindsided me. I felt trapped. If going blind was one of my greatest fears, then having someone else controlling my sight was a hundred times worse. Feeling my heartbeat quicken I closed my eyes and forced my aching neck to look down. My knees were still visible, as were my feet and I could even make out the concrete disk on which I was standing. The constricted feeling lessened. I was still in control––moderately.

    I don't know how long I stared at my feet, but after a while, I noticed that the disk was hemmed with grass. Only a little bit after that, my eyes focused enough to notice that the grass was thin. In between the blades I could see mud. It had been raining recently. I began formulating a better image of my surroundings. I was outside, but in an enclosed space.

    Trapped, kept running through my mind, but I didn't have the time to worry. Something was about to happen, I could feel it. With everything I had I focused on the dimmer area to my left. Eventually I could just barely make out a figure. A boy, a young man, about my age judging by the build. What was this place?

    As if to answer my unasked question, one of the lights switched off. Then another and another until I was left standing in the semi-darkness of someone nearly flash-blinded. Again, it took time for my eyes to adjust. As they did, an unfamiliar voice rang over hidden loudspeakers.

    “Welcome to the Arena!” the voice said cheerfully.

    I ignored it and instead began to analyze what I could see. We were in a central court of a large villa. In front of me was a round table that looked more like a stone cushion than anything.

    The voice continued. “This is a testing facility. For those of you who know the drill, please, be patient as I read the rules.”

    Testing facility?

    “One. The items provided are for your use. Please, take whatever you wish.”

    Items? The gears in my mind clicked. He meant the assortment of ruck-sacks piled on the cushion-table.

    “Two. The eight other people you see are either your opponents or your allies. Choose wisely.”

    Eight other people. I could see them at last, though the overcast light didn't permit for much detail. There was the boy beside me, a woman on the other side of him. I couldn't focus on their faces. My mind was reeling. Why me? Where is this place?

    “Three. Survive the next seven days and you'll be rewarded.”

    Survive?
    My instincts kicked in then. Survive! My mind started sorting through the pile before me, analyzing which pack most likely held first aid and provisions. They were all very generic. Scrap that idea. Just grab the one on top.

    And then I saw him.

    Directly across from me was a young man whose name I never really knew, but I recognized him from somewhere. Tall, over six feet, and lean but well-built. He was exactly how I remembered him. Except, in the memory he had a limp and a brace around his knee. He'd gotten into some kind of accident and ruined his knee. That was more than twenty years ago. He hadn't aged a day.

    “Four.” I'd all but forgotten about the rules. “Begin when the cannon fires.”

    My legs tensed. I knew what I had to do. I wanted him on my team, that much I knew for certain. The cannon fired. My muscles snapped into action, launching me at the cushion-table faster than I'd ever moved before. I wasn't sure if it was adrenaline or a byproduct of my gift.

    The table was only inches away from me and larger than it had looked when I was on my disk. I leaped, scrambling over the tops of the bags. Snatching one, I tossed it over my shoulder. One down. My hand clenched around the strap of another as I launched off the table heading straight for him. He hadn't moved more than a pace away from his concrete disk. Was he frozen with fear?

    As I reached him I grabbed his arm and yanked him away with me. “Come on!” I yelled. He obliged, picking up the pace as we went. “It's good to see that you've healed up,” I said, slightly winded. I honestly had no idea where I was going so I was just talking to help me think. It wasn't helping. Luckily, I didn't have to think much. The young man apparently knew where he was going.

    He grabbed my hand, locking it in a vice grip. I hadn't felt a grip that solid since... I don't have time to think about that! My shoulder felt like it was going to be ripped out of its socket as he half-dragged me across the veranda and through a door. We stopped in a main hallway and my shoulder was given a break, but only for a second. The young man tugged at me again and we dashed up two flights of stairs. At the top he pulled me left down a hall, another left, and another, then through another door. He unceremoniously threw me in and silently shut the door and held out a hand, signaling for me to wait, but didn't look at me. I squatted, catching my breath. He was in charge all of a sudden and I wasn't about to argue.

    I didn't speak, just watched him. He had an ear to the door, a serious look on his face. Almost all the familiarity I felt earlier was gone. This man may have had a face I knew, but he certainly wasn't the person from my memories. I watched as his right hand clenched and unclenched, wondered what he was hearing, what he was listening for. Finally, he pulled away.

    “We're the only ones on this hall,” he said quietly.

    “Are you sure?” I asked. My voice sounded so small and childlike that I looked around wondering if someone else had spoken.

    He didn't seem to notice. “Positive.”

    We stared at each other for long minutes, me crouching, him standing over me, neither of us saying a word, not even touching the bags I'd deposited in the middle of the room. I was the one to break the silence.

    “I don't remember your name.”

    “You knew me as Hoblin,” he whispered.

    Hoblin, Hoblin. The name swam around and around in my head. “Lyn?'

    He smiled at this and finally he was the man I remembered, the one from my dance class. We took ballet together. We were even going to try out at the opera house together. That was before the accident. “I didn't think you'd remember me. When I saw you across the table I hoped you would.”

    I nodded. “You were kind of hard to forget. How did the knee heal up? I though it was irreparable.”

    “It was.” The answer was too short, it felt like he was brushing me off. “But it's fine now.” He swung his leg, indicating that it worked.

    “But... how?”

    “I've changed, Maria.”

    My old name left an empty feeling inside me. I almost didn't want to respond. “Is that what you meant by 'you knew me as'?”

    He nodded slowly.

    “What are they calling you now?”

    “Osiris.”

    “What kind are you?”

    He seemed shocked by this question, but answered anyway. “The kind that kills,” he said flatly. “I take it I'm not the only one that has changed.”

    I shook my head. “No, I haven't been Maria in a while. They named me Adrianna.”

    He knelt down in front of me, fixing me with an apologetic stare. “They?”

    “The noxfers that changed me.”

    “There was more than one?”

    “A clan, coven, whatever you want to call them. I was in their hands for three weeks.”

    “Dureri nosferatu,” he whispered. “Pain vampires.”

    I looked away.

    “I'm so sorry, Adrianna.”

    Biting my lip, I nodded. “There's not much that can be done now. What's done is done. Where are we?” I had to change the subject. The memories of how I was changed hurt too much and on so many levels.

    “Maria.” His voice was so soft and gentle and soothing that even though hearing my old name pained me I wanted him to continue talking. I didn't want him to stop.

    I turned to look Osiris in the eye again. He smiled sadly when our eyes met. It seemed odd that he knew exactly how to get my attention when we barely knew each other.

    “Adrianna,” he corrected. “Welcome to the Arena.”


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Reanna Aloi
    Dean of the Academy

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Special Operations Rank : SPO Captain
    Number of posts : 3480
    Location : Somewhere in a home, in a city, in a country, somewhere on the planet...
    Ship Name : The Immortal
    Ship Registry Number : Special Registry: NCC 082270
    Ship Class : Defiant (modified refit)
    Fleet Division : Intel/Special Ops

    Main RP Character Profile
    Name:

    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Reanna Aloi on Wed Mar 21, 2012 8:44 pm

    OOC: Cool!!!! You go away for a while and come back with a big KA-BANG!! Awesome. So, just wondering when this is taking place and what or where you're going with this or if its just a simple story to entertain us? Hunh? HUnh? Tell us, tell us? hehe


    __________________________________________________________

    Alethearia
    Jaynestown resident

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Serenity Starfighter Corps : FSC Flight Commander
    Number of posts : 2149
    Location : STILL in a giant metal robot bent on DESTROYING the world! sigh
    Ship Name : USS Valiance
    USS Windsong
    Ship Registry Number : NCC-74109
    ....
    Ship Class : Intrepid
    Stormcrow
    Fleet Division : Starfighter Corps (The Fireflys)

    Main RP Character Profile
    Name: Angelina Eli

    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Mon Mar 26, 2012 11:12 am

    OOC: muahahaha! I shall never tell! Tis an entertainment story... in an alternate universe that is kinda steampunky. Also, I believe that this particular part of the story takes place in the 1950s? Still unsure on the exact date. I shall post the first chapter here...now-ish! It starts with the main character in Germany-occupied France in 1942 and you shall love/hate it because I is evil! Twisted Evil


    Last edited by Alethearia on Mon Mar 26, 2012 11:28 am; edited 1 time in total


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Alethearia
    Jaynestown resident

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Serenity Starfighter Corps : FSC Flight Commander
    Number of posts : 2149
    Location : STILL in a giant metal robot bent on DESTROYING the world! sigh
    Ship Name : USS Valiance
    USS Windsong
    Ship Registry Number : NCC-74109
    ....
    Ship Class : Intrepid
    Stormcrow
    Fleet Division : Starfighter Corps (The Fireflys)

    Main RP Character Profile
    Name: Angelina Eli

    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Mon Mar 26, 2012 11:27 am

    Midnight eyes stared at me from behind the curtains. I could feel them watching me every time I turned. My movements were under scrutiny by those eyes, making my limbs feel heavy, my toes go numb. I lost my balance during a series of Fouette en tournant, allowing myself to spin and spin until I successfully toppled three of the girls next to me and nearly ripped a nearby curtain from its rings. That never happens. In the Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris you do not allow it to happen.
    My instructor was yelling something indistinct when the man with the midnight eyes offered his hand. He was smiling. I couldn't understand how he could find something so humiliating amusing. Still, I accepted his hand graciously and stood with all the grace I could muster. The first thing I saw was his gray German uniform.

    “Are you alright?” he asked in perfect French––my first hint that he was not a German soldier. If there were one thing I'd learned about the occupation, it's that foreign soldiers didn't usually bother learning our language.

    I stared at him, not daring to respond. He was taller than me, but not by much, and as I looked up I saw a sincerity in his face. His dark eyes watched me with an uncanny steadiness that made me feel woozy. Hair every bit as black as mine fell in short curls around his sharply angled face. Dazzlingly white teeth smiled at me from behind soft lips. He was beautiful. That frightened me.
    My mind went to something my older sister used to say, "Beautiful people can not be trusted". As far as I knew it was true. Every beautiful person I knew had a secret motive to remain beautiful at any cost, even if it was just how they saw themselves. Those words were no more true than they were at the opera house.

    “Your hands are shaking.” The words were barely loud enough for me to hear, but they startled me out of my reverie so violently that I jumped. I had to run over what he said several times for it to register. Once they finally did I stared at my hands, still in his. He was right. They were shaking visibly. I pulled them away and tucked them under my arms.

    “I'm sorry if I scared you––”

    “What is the meaning of this?” My instructor's voice was suddenly right next to me at the volume of a freight train. I jumped. My foot slipped and I fell forwards. The blue-eyed not-German caught me, pulling me into him.

    “Forgive me madam,” the not-german said while patting my back reassuringly. “But, it seems this young girl is suffering from some sort of fatigue. If you don't mind, I'll take her into my care.”

    “What? Are you a doctor or something?” my instructor snapped in her sharp and authoritative way.

    “Dristan Fortier, madam. Chief Medical Officer of the unit in Nice. I'm visiting Paris on holiday.”
    But I didn't buy it. Nice was occupied by Italy and he couldn't have been Italian, not with a French name. But, my instructor took this at face value, turned on her heel and left to tend to the rest of the girls.

    Without another word Dristan scooped me up and carried me away. Immediately I felt exposed. Please stop by the dressing room so I can at least grab a skirt. He didn't. He didn't even put me down until we were outside and he was sliding me into a car.

    The door closed with a soft click and I was left to look around for a few brief moments. Leather interior, tinted glass, I couldn't see the driver, and there was a pile of clothes on the seat next to me. Has he been following me? Those clothes look like they're my...

    “They're for you.” Dristan was suddenly sitting next to me. I hadn't heard him get in.

    What was wrong with me? I'm usually more observant than this. And for that matter, where are they taking me? I was about to confront him when Dristan started talking again.

    “Don't be alarmed. They're yours. I took the liberty of having one of my men fetch them from your room. I hope you don't mind.”

    Don't be alarmed? Is he serious?

    “I've been watching you for some time. You're just the person I've been waiting for.”

    What is he talking about? My mind was racing. My heartbeat quickened. My arm muscles tensed as I prepared to leave. Fatigued or not I wasn't about to spend another minute alone with this crazy lying imposter! But the car lurched forward and I was left with no choice but to stay.

    “I bet you're wondering what on Earth I'm talking about.”

    Wow, mind-reader this one, I thought sarcastically. Real clever.

    “Put your clothes on, Maria. I want you looking presentable when we arrive.”

    I finally decided to speak. “How do you know my name?”

    Dristan looked over at me as though noticing me for the first time. I was willing to bet that he wasn't expecting me to speak during the whole ride, but the look on his face told me that he didn't think I was capable of speaking at all.

    “What?” The single word told me that he was confused about more than just what I said.

    “I asked you, Dristan Fortier: how do you know my name?”

    If possible he looked more puzzled. “I don't understand––”

    “Well, you seem to speak French fluently, so language doesn't seem to be your problem,” I snapped. “And, though you certainly have their self-diluted charisma, you're not Italian, you don't have the build of an Italian. I'm going to guess you're Czechoslovakian. I've dated enough of them to know. There's something about the way you say your R's that gives it away. But you're not native, your skin tone is off. English born?” I was getting a head rush. And, though I could still feel his eyes on me, I no longer felt the weight of them. It felt as though something cool was running through my veins, giving me new life. All my dizziness was gone.

    “And now that you know a little about me, you expect me to tell you how I know your name. Is that it?”

    “Right, English then,” I continued, completely ignoring his question despite how true it was. “So, the question is: why is a English born Czechoslovakian disguised as an Italian medical officer in German occupied France seeking the company of a dazed ballerina?” I paused briefly and turned to look at him. His face had “total shock” written all over it. I had the upper hand here––I could feel it as surely as if he were suddenly three feet shorter.

    In the silence that hung between us a thought occurred to me. “You don't want me because I'm a ballerina,” I said quietly, the words coming out slowly, deliberately. “You want me for my medical training.” My father had been a doctor, he'd taught me everything he could before being called off to serve his country. “Just in case,” he had said. “You never know when you may find yourself in a dire situation.”

    A dry, wan smile spread across Dristan's face. It was my turn to be frightened. Sane people do not smile like that.

    “You're good, I'll give you that,” he said as he turned to look out the darkened window. “And you're strong willed. We can use that. Get dressed. We'll be there shortly.”

    “Where?” I demanded.

    He wheeled on me, his face turning from maniacal to mischievous in the blink of an eye. “If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise.”

    I glared at him. Oh, goody. I just love surprises.

    “I'm serious. Clothes. The putting on of them. Kind of important.”

    “Cover your eyes.”

    Dristan raised his hands in surrender and turned away. I got dressed and undressed in front of people every day. It was part of my job, but this was different. I wasn't about to expose myself to this psychopath.

    In silence I shook the clothes so I could see them. It was a dress I hadn't worn in ages. I never really had the occasion to. Midnight blue, sleeveless, and floor-length, it met every definition of “evening gown” I could think of. I never went out so it was almost always at the bottom of my clothing chest buried under years of costumes. Why would he want me to wear this one? I wondered. If he wants me for my limited medical expertise, why would he want me to present myself in an evening gown?

    “Quickly, girl.” He was being short now. “We're almost there.”

    “So, it's girl now, is it?” I snapped back as I pulled the dress over my leotard. Without much thought I adjusted the leotard's straps so that they didn't show before I pulled the dress's length down to my feet. “You can turn around, I suppose,” I said with a sigh realizing that it had been pointless for him to turn away. “Do I get shoes with this?”

    “Garcon!” Dristan snapped his fingers and the driver passed back a light-weight black box.
    Dristan took the box as though he were picking up a small child and handed it to me. Accepting it with mild curiosity, I placed it on my lap and opened it. Inside were a pair of elegant red shoes with straps going every which way. I tossed the box aside and put them on.

    “Perfect fit,” I said in only mild surprise. I was getting used to it.

    “And these.” Dristan handed me a pair of long black velvet gloves. I pulled them on just as the car careened to a halt.

    “These are––” I looked up and he was gone. “Dristan?” My door opened letting in dull gray moonlight.

    “This way.” He offered me his hand. I obliged him.

    Stepping out of the car I had no idea where I was. Fog sat heavily in the trees which I could see over his shoulder. I couldn't see the Seine from where we were parked but I assumed it was close because fog got thicker further into the trees. It could have been one of any number of parks along the river, but given Dristan's actions and overall crazed ambiance I'd say that we were well out of town if I had to venture a guess. Why did I have to dress up for this place? It's a wreck. And it's not like there will be anyone here to impr... My thoughts trailed off as Dristan grabbed my elbow and led me through the grass into the fog-bound trees.

    My heels dug into the moist earth making it difficult to walk. “Where are you taking me?” I demanded for what felt like the millionth time even though I knew most of those times had only been in my head.

    “I'm taking you to meet...” He paused, moving closer to me. “A few friends of mine.”

    Stupidly I blurted out, “And are these friends as demented as you?” without giving myself a chance to think.

    “What?” He stopped. In an instant he spun me to face him and locked both my elbows to my sides. His face, only inches from mine, looked at me with in intense expression that I could only describe as curiosity mixed with anxiety and the slightest bit of pain. “What do you mean by that?” His voice was controlled as he spat out the words.

    Chewing on my lip bought me a moment to ponder how to respond. It came to me with little warning. Slowly I released my lip and looked at him with false confidence. “Only that it would be fun if they were.”

    Dristan smiled again. Sane people don't smile like that. “Well well well. It looks like I picked correctly after all.”

    Pick me for what?

    In a sudden change of character he looked me over, seriousness written on his pursed lips. “Yeah, we'd better let it down.” He shook me once, instructing me to stand still. His hands moved rapidly, removing the pins from my hair. It fell with a bounce. I no longer felt in control. My mouth slipped open. For that split second not being in control felt good. Then it was gone. Dristan grabbed my elbow again and in two long strides he turned me away from him and pushed me into a clearing.

    “Go on,” he urged as I stumbled forward through the fog. “They're very excited to see you.” Why did he put emphasis on that word? “And don't worry, they don't usually bite.”

    Usually? I looked back but he was gone. Drifting low through the mist was a maniac laughter that echoed in such an eerie way that I knew it had to be on purpose. It didn't sound like Dristan's voice, it was higher pitched. Feminine. Crazed. Then it was gone.

    Something to my right caught my eye. I turned to see the slender form of a woman dressed in white gliding a few yards away from me. With spread arms she stared at the ground moving as though through water. She kept pace with me even though she seemed to be walking in slow motion.

    I stopped to watch her. When I did she looked up at me, smiled, backed into the mist and vanished. My first thought was that she was a ghost. I couldn't have been farther from the truth.

    Turning around again was difficult for me to do. Shock and fear held me rigid for an indeterminable amount of time. The chill Parisian air seldom affected my bare arms. That night was no different. The cold that filled me wasn't from the fog. It felt more like someone had replaced my blood with glacier water. All my muscles ached, begged me to just collapse. Again. My eyes fluttered shut feeling suddenly heavy.

    Wake up! Wake up! I commanded. No response. It was like someone was trying to contain my mind, trap me in a dark place within myself.

    No! My eyes snapped open. The ice flushed from my system, replaced by a burning sensation I was all too familiar with––the burn of muscles fighting to stay in motion. I couldn't move. Panic struck me the way it did when I forgot the next step while on stage. Frantically, I scanned the area in front of me.

    Three figures standing in the clearing was not on my list of things to expect. They were approaching me with slow relaxed strides. The closer they got the better I could see them through the mist. The one in the center was shorter than me dressed all in flowing black that billowed as she walked. Slender ivory arms flowed gracefully at her sides. A mane of golden hair rolled over her shoulders. The one on the right was a man, copper-skinned and with shoulder length hair. He was built like so many of my dance partners––with strong arms and thick coil-spring legs. And the one on the left––the woman in white...

    They stopped only a foot or so away from me standing in a “V” formation. The man swayed like a snake as he analyzed me. The weight of his gaze was so similar to Dristan's that it was unnerving. I focused my attention on him. Our eyes locked. He flinched and turned to the woman in white. She nodded at some unspoken command and approached me.

    “Well, you're fatter than I'd expect a ballerina to be.” Her comment didn't bother me. She'd apparently never met any ballerinas. But her voice... her voice drained my blood. So cold. So dry. “Are you sure she's worth it, Dristan? Will she be missed?”

    Dristan's voice echoed from somewhere behind me. “She won't. I made sure of that.”

    Missed? What is happening?

    The woman took slow steps as she circled me anticlockwise. She picked up my arm, examined it. Her touch reminded me of spiders creeping over my skin. I pulled away, finally gaining some sense of control, but she just cocked a sneering smile and pulled my hair aside. A single finger traced a zig-zag pattern down my spine. I arched my back in an effort to distance myself from her despite my inability to move. She snickered in my ear. The spiders crawled down my other arm as she lovingly caressed it.

    “Well, I have to say, she'd make a nice addition,” she said coming around to take a closer look at my face. Her cold spideresque hand clutched my chin. She turned my head to different angles, studying me.

    “Cassandra!” It could only have been the man speaking.

    “She'll do,” the woman in white, Cassandra, said with a sigh. She released me roughly. “I suppose. What do you think, Orpheus?”

    The man spoke again. “I think she'll be more trouble than she's worth.”

    “And what about you, Nereida?”

    The small creature in flowing black stepped closer. She stood on her tip toes to look closer at me. It was the first time I really saw her face. If Cassandra was a ghost, Nereida was a doll. Perfectly centered over her pointed chin was a set of large soft lips. Huge and watery, her eyes were set over a delicate nose. Her skin was like porcelain, smooth and creamy white. I looked her over more than once. She didn't seem real.

    I drew myself back to her eyes. I couldn't take myself away from them. It was like looking into the southern sea. So blue. An unnatural light danced in them casting shadows around the edges and drawing me into a calm relaxed state.

    “She's not afraid,” she said in a voice every bit as sweet and doll-like as her face.

    “I know, isn't it wonderful?” Dristan's face was right next to mine, his chin hovering over my shoulder. I didn't dare move. My heart began pounding. I felt vulnerable again. But Nereida was right. My heart wasn't pounding out of fear. It was excitement. Something was about to happen, I could feel it. Life in the ballet, life in a world at war, none of it could bring the amount of anticipation I felt at that moment.

    Soft cool skin pressed against my cheek. The barest amount of stubble dragged against my skin as he turned his face. Warm lips fluttered against my ear. “You're going to be ever so much fun,” Dristan's voice murmured. With a sharp inhale of breath my eyes closed.

    Everything went black.



    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Seeker
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Seeker on Mon Mar 26, 2012 1:23 pm

    Interesting it dose draw you in with the mystery, the first part reminds me of the hunger games


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    Alethearia
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Mon Mar 26, 2012 1:26 pm

    of course it would. it's the stereotypical gladiator thing. total archetype. but it gets better! muahahaha!


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Reanna Aloi
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Reanna Aloi on Mon Mar 26, 2012 7:04 pm

    *rolls eyes* Vampires!! Why does it have to be vampires? *shakes head* And a coven of them! *shakes head again* lol Nice write. Interesting and intriguing.


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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Tue Mar 27, 2012 12:53 am

    hey, no blood though. it's a pain-drain thing. and there's more than just that. I think there's a psychopathic pyrokenetic witch... Cool


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Reanna Aloi
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Reanna Aloi on Tue Mar 27, 2012 8:06 am

    Oh great! What after that; a sychopant hunter, a schizophrenic werewolf? hehehe Bring on the psychopathic pyrokenetic.... Very Happy Very Happy


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    Alethearia
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Tue Mar 27, 2012 11:26 am

    well, the shapeshifters aren't always wolves and it's more of a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing. It's all about balance and releasing your inhibitions so you don't go on a crazy killing spree when you turn. So if you see characters that are a little nuts and say, I don't know, randomly jump out of airships for fun? Dead give-away.

    Also, there's a secret society that wants all "dark ones" dead... or used a guinea pigs... or sent into the arena for sport. >^..^<


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Reanna Aloi
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Reanna Aloi on Tue Mar 27, 2012 3:06 pm

    Kewl! As for shifters, being a long time D&D player, sci fi nut and so on, I do know that there are many types of shifters. Sadly, most people, all from what I've seen so far, go with the popular werewolf. Heck, not all shifters are were creatures either. Ever heard of the opposite; wolfwere, tigerwere and so on?

    Nuff talk, on with the next part.


    __________________________________________________________

    Alethearia
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Tue Mar 27, 2012 5:08 pm

    am working on it! patience!


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Reanna Aloi
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Reanna Aloi on Tue Mar 27, 2012 7:27 pm

    No! No patience! NOw, now, now, now, now, now, now, now. Are ya ittitated yet? hehehehe Now, now,now, now, now, now, now, now, now, now...... Bahhhh hahahahaha..


    __________________________________________________________

    Alethearia
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Tue Mar 27, 2012 11:10 pm

    Well, this is all I have of Chapter 2 thus far. Kind of at a block. I have a vague idea of where to go, but the details still need to work themselves out in my head. Random off the wall ideas and questions would be awesome!

    What felt like a jolt of electricity attacked my face with a loud smack. White light flared behind my eyes. Pain blistered on my cheek. I blinked. Light still popped up in little bursts of color all over my vision. I could barely distinguish that there were people around me, let alone who.

    “Oh, good! You are awake, we were beginning to worry about you,” Dristan sang.

    “Yeah, you shouldn't just faint on us like that. You never know what might happen to you.” The second voice was Cassandra's. It was just as sing-song as Dristan's, but in a dry, harsh way.

    “And besides,” Dristan continued, “fainting is bad for your brain.”

    They both giggled at this, though I couldn't imagine why.

    “What... happened?” Rubbing away the spots, I blinked again. Things were more in focus. At least I could make out that I was in a gazebo still in the park.

    “You... well, there's no easy way to put this.” Dristan's face grinned at me again. Maniac. “You fainted.” Cassandra burst out laughing her insane, high pitched laugh again.

    I can move again. The thought seemed so alien to me, like my subconscious was another person pointing out the things I should notice. There are only two people in here.

    “Where are Nereida and Orphius?” I asked.

    “Oh look, she's learned our names. How sweet,” Cassandra said in a baby voice.

    I shook my head and sat up. Blood rushed from my head leaving my cheek stinging again. When I touched it the skin felt hot. It stung. “And what did you do to my face?”

    “Oh, that.” Cassandra hickuped a giggle. “It's nothing really. All we have to do is––”

    “We'll show you later.” Dristan smiled that wicked smile and looked me up and down like a hungry animal. “Come on. We can't be getting that dress dirty.”


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Reanna Aloi
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Reanna Aloi on Wed Mar 28, 2012 9:58 am

    Oooo and the plot thickens. Will she realize who they are, will she know that she is in grave danger. tune in next week, same bat time, same bat channel......Uhm....More like, same vamp time, same vamp channel. hehehe


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    Alethearia
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Wed Mar 28, 2012 12:54 pm

    lol no, she really is in a park. XD I just can't figure out where Nereida and Orphius went...


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Reanna Aloi
    Dean of the Academy

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Special Operations Rank : SPO Captain
    Number of posts : 3480
    Location : Somewhere in a home, in a city, in a country, somewhere on the planet...
    Ship Name : The Immortal
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Reanna Aloi on Wed Mar 28, 2012 7:19 pm

    Same dark park, same dark channel...hehe Maybe....they got lost in the park washroom. You know how big those things can be...hehehehehe


    __________________________________________________________

    Alethearia
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Wed Mar 28, 2012 10:37 pm

    Oh... shut up! Embarassed I'm working on it...


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Pyriel32
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Pyriel32 on Wed Mar 28, 2012 11:39 pm

    nice work

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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Seeker on Wed Mar 28, 2012 11:58 pm

    cool start i'ms looking forward to more, i think you where looking for feed back, i like how the frsit chapter in in the future and then you jump back to a time she was remebering in that future and continue the story it leave you wonder what happens to get to that point and wanting to read more to find out. the mystory is nice too drawing your reader in but at some you going have start answering the questions the read is bond to have or they going to get bored or fed up but i would not answer every thing. and i don't think you you too that point yet you have to answer alot just don't leave in confusion land tooooo long. i guess i don't read alot of vap stuff so in did not see that until she said some thing and yes shape shifter don't all have to be wolfs.


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    Alethearia
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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Thu Mar 29, 2012 2:53 am

    Pyriel32 wrote:nice work

    why, thank you.

    And Seeker, I have evil plans for the prologue. MUAHAHAHA! Twisted Evil

    And, I have a bit more of chapter 2 written. Here it is!

    "Why did you have me wear this thing anyway?" A valid question. I should have asked it before, I thought I had. Maybe it was in my head again. Something was drastically wrong. My inner monologue wasn't working! Everything felt so... Off. Someone was in my head readjusting all the dials and turning my mind on its side - at least that's what it felt like. What's wrong with me?

    "Some place special. There's someone we'd like you to meet." Cassandra's voice, though loud an cackling a second ago, sounded distant.

    "Wait. What? Taking me where? Someone? I thought I'd met all of you. Where are Nereida and Orphius?" So many questions left unanswered.

    "Like I said." Dristan's voice was booming and in my ear. "It's a surprise."

    I looked at him with confusion, frustration, and determination. He took my elbow and helped me stand. New strength surged through me at his touch. I resisted, pulling away from him. I couldn't stand another second of his overt vagueness, his blatant secrecy, his obscenely insane smile.

    "Let go of me!"

    He smiled again. Sane people don't smile like that! "Whatever you say. Dear." He let go of my elbow with a chuckle.

    My world fell out of focus again. My head felt a mile away from my body. Colors flared at the edges of my vision. Suddenly, everything felt funny. The moon looks really creepy in this fog. Like it's going to jump out and eat me. I burst out laughing at this. I'm sure it looked stupid to Cassandra and Dristan. Hey, Cassandra looks like a ghost. I wonder if my hand will go right through her if I touch her. Grinning like a crazy person I stumbled forward.

    Cassandra stepped back holding up her arms. "Dristan, there's something wrong with your pet."

    He stepped forward to grab me. He stopped when Nereida appeared at the door of the gazebo just a few feet away from me. If I weren't mooning I'd have noticed the hierarchy then. Instead I leaned forward and touched Nereida's face.

    "You're the most realistic doll I've ever seen. What makes you move like that?" I had no idea what I was saying.

    Nereida's watery blue eyes stared at me. Studied me. Then she turned to Dristan. "Something is very wrong."

    "Tell me about it," he said, suddenly serious.

    "Take her," she ordered in her silky sweet voice. She turned back to me, gently taking my hand as Dristan scooped me into his arms for the second time that night. "Cassandra." She sang the name without looking away from me.

    "Yes, Nereida."

    "Run ahead and tell Gilgamesh that we're on our way and that there's a situation, would you?"

    "Of course. Do you want me to bring Orph--"

    "Just go!" Nereida's voice seemed abnormally harsh to me.

    "What's going on?" I asked in a daze.

    "Shush sweet one." Nereida's voice was so sweet, so soothing, as she swept a lock of hair from my face. "Everything's going to be alright."


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Alethearia
    Jaynestown resident

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Serenity Starfighter Corps : FSC Flight Commander
    Number of posts : 2149
    Location : STILL in a giant metal robot bent on DESTROYING the world! sigh
    Ship Name : USS Valiance
    USS Windsong
    Ship Registry Number : NCC-74109
    ....
    Ship Class : Intrepid
    Stormcrow
    Fleet Division : Starfighter Corps (The Fireflys)

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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Fri Apr 06, 2012 5:43 pm

    next part!

    A lightness swept me up into the air on a blanket of bubbles and candy drops. I smiled, taking in the new scent of... fresh-cut grass and... petrichor. That's a funny word. It was a yummy smell. I like yummy smells. Then something fuzzy brushed my face. I blinked. Dristan's face was only inches from mine.

    How'd he get so close? Does it matter? He smells nice. He has pretty eyes. I like the color blue.

    I lifted my fingers to stroke his gray uniform. “You're all... itchy.”

    “What?” He focused on me.

    “There's noting wrong with me, you know. I'm just fine. I just feel kinda... dizzy.”

    He stopped. Had we been moving? His cool hand brushed my cheek. “We can't let anything happen to you.”

    “Is it because I'm pretty?”

    He held my gaze with a sudden intensity. His hand felt so solid. His hand. His hand. The thought suddenly repulsed me. My eyes widened. I could see Dristan in stunning clarity. I started shaking.

    “Put me down,” I snapped. “Put me down!”

    His concern twisted into a pained, confused smile. “Fine.” He put me down with a flourish and bowed sarcastically. “Your wish is my command, princess.”

    The fog in the trees surrounded me, entered my thoughts. Everything was so pretty. “I like being a princess.”

    “Oh, dear lord.”

    “Lord of what?” I asked, not really sure what he was talking about. Actually, I didn't know what anyone was talking about. How come I had do be the princess? Why couldn't Dristan be the princess? He could wear a pink tutu and dance around on the stage like me. I like dancing.

    “Take my hand.”

    “But, I don't want to. I think.”

    “Just take it!”

    “Why?” I turned to him with a mischievous smile. “Is it because you like me?”

    He looked frustrated. “It's an experiment. Just take my hand.”

    “You know, you're really serious.”

    “Take it!” His angry face scared me. I didn't object.

    The instant my flesh touched his it my vision cleared. The muddlement of the moment before lifted until I could see Dristan's face without the sparkles again.

    “Well.” That knowing, twisted smile spread across his face again. “Isn't that interesting.”

    “Isn't what interesting?”

    He didn't answer. Instead he dragged me back into the mist, not letting go of my hand. I tugged, pulled, yanked, even seriously considered biting, but he held fast. My wrist began to ache. My knuckles throbbed as he squeezed my hand into a pulp.

    “You're crushing my hand!” Yelling wouldn't be enough. I had to make him face me. With everything I had, I dug into the soft wet grass. The heel of my left shoe broke with a harsh snap before he finally stopped.

    “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded, trying to remove my shoe with my free hand, fully intent on throwing it at him.

    He grabbed my arm and held me fast, fixing me with a look I couldn't read. With a slow blink he kissed me on the forehead. “I'm sorry for hurting you.”

    Pain ebbed from my hand until it felt better than it ever had. Then the aching in my shoulders vanished along with the soreness in my legs. Every little pain I'd experienced that day vanished. What was going on? I stared at my hand in disbelief, then looked up at him. He was smiling maniacally again. This time, I said it aloud.

    “You're mad.”

    “Actually, I'm quite peaceful.”

    “No. You're insane.”

    He stepped so close to me that I could feel his breath on my cheeks. “Very. The thing is, you like me that way.”

    He's right. He can't be right. Can he?

    Cocking his head and dropped to his knees. “I suppose we can't have you wearing these anymore, can we?” he muttered as he removed my shoes with his free hand.

    “But, my feet will get muddy. I thought you said you wanted me to look presentable.”

    “I did. And you shall.”


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

    Reanna Aloi
    Dean of the Academy

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Special Operations Rank : SPO Captain
    Number of posts : 3480
    Location : Somewhere in a home, in a city, in a country, somewhere on the planet...
    Ship Name : The Immortal
    Ship Registry Number : Special Registry: NCC 082270
    Ship Class : Defiant (modified refit)
    Fleet Division : Intel/Special Ops

    Main RP Character Profile
    Name:

    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Reanna Aloi on Fri Apr 06, 2012 9:02 pm

    And so it continues...hehe


    __________________________________________________________

    Alethearia
    Jaynestown resident

    Fleet Rank : Captain
    Serenity Starfighter Corps : FSC Flight Commander
    Number of posts : 2149
    Location : STILL in a giant metal robot bent on DESTROYING the world! sigh
    Ship Name : USS Valiance
    USS Windsong
    Ship Registry Number : NCC-74109
    ....
    Ship Class : Intrepid
    Stormcrow
    Fleet Division : Starfighter Corps (The Fireflys)

    Main RP Character Profile
    Name: Angelina Eli

    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Alethearia on Fri Apr 06, 2012 10:45 pm

    And the last bit of chapter 2! Yay finally finished! cheers

    Indignation coursed through me as he tossed me over his shoulder. “Put me down.” I demanded. He took off at an incredible speed, gliding through the trees in long strides. It surprised me just how little I felt jostled. Still...

    “If you don't put me down I'll scream. I swear I will!”

    “No you won't. You know the war too well. A scream in the night means nothing to the Germans.”

    He was right again. “Then would you at least bother carrying me with some dignity?”

    “What? This isn't dignant enough for you?”

    “No!”

    “Would you like me to put you down so you can swoon and I can catch you.”

    “What? No. Why?”

    “Oh, no reason.”

    “Why, Dristan? I do believe you have a crush on me.”

    “No, I don't.” His voice gave away a hint of confusion. I had him on the rocks.

    “Put me down. I want to talk to you.”

    He didn't say anything, just continued in his long strides. I watched as tree after tree swept by and disappeared into the mist. The pace of the trees passing slowed, stopped. I bounced slightly on Dristan's shoulder before he set me down. He watched me with trusting eyes.

    “We have to meet with Gilgamesh.”

    The name sounded so familiar. Like I'd heard it in a dream. “I heard that somewhere before.”

    “The person Nereida mentioned,” he said with confused confidence.

    “No. Somewhere else.”

    I looked up at him. Midnight eyes met mine. Soft. Concerned. It seemed that with Cassandra gone––even her potential presence––brought him into reality. Am I seeing you for the first time? I couldn't help but touch his face. My fingers were only centimeters away from his cheek when I hesitated. What's wrong with me? I know that I have a knack for trusting people easily, but this is insane. Then it dawned on me, where I'd heard that name before.

    “Gilgamesh,” I whispered a sudden wave of horror flooding me.

    My hand dropped from his cheek. My legs sprung into action, leaping as I gathered the train of my skirt over my arm. Gilgamesh the insane. Gilgamesh the traitor. Gilgamesh the murderer.


    __________________________________________________________


    Ero found herself mourning the passing of the sandwich more than she did the smashing of the chain-linked fence via a giant ancient aircraft, much to the dismay of the chain-linked fence. And, where the fence able to convey it's sorrow over not being mourned, perhaps Ero might have mourned the fence as well...but seeing as how the fence couldn't talk, and she was too busy trying not to be run over and turned into a green and purple mess (much like her bemourned sandwich), Ero found herself quite content not mourning the destruction of the government's once pristine chain-linked fence.

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    Re: Pocket-full of Pain

    Post by Sponsored content Today at 10:34 am


      Current date/time is Sat Oct 01, 2016 10:34 am