Raiha

[quote name='Sandy']Oh, and y'all should be thankful that I haven't gone graphical with the intimacy between Gadget and Vincent. ;P I'm just trying to catch the vibe of "forbidden love" - and that includes doing it in the strangest places, just out of a spur of the moment. ;P And Kathy, this turned into a soap opera looong time ago. ;D EDIT: You have to remember, Kathy, that Henry is an [I]illegitimate[/I] son of Leonhart, thus he has no legal rights to any of the Almagest fortune, unfortunately.[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Forbidden love doesn't always imply spontaneous screwing in a socially inappropriate place. Besides, I had always assumed that Vincent wasn't the type to do that sort of thing. And while it was always a soap opera, at least all the players were included. Legal rights has nothing to do with it, I always figured that Lady Catharine would see things in the light of how Leonheart always treated him and Dame Anna.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Sandy']Well, if you want to [I]nitpick[/I], then yes, that's exactly what happened. XD[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]How does it feel baby? Do you [b]like[/b] it? But seriously, she'll probably have given him a key incase of emergencies [like that one]. And she wasn't near enough to the blast to get the brains knocked out of her. But shock is something that's easily treatable and she stayed the whole night. Perhaps 8 hours. Which is plenty of outpatient time. Trust me, I did it once. Not fun.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]So I can only assume that Macey gave Gadget a copy of her key, or he pinched hers and had a copy made and returned hers before she could notice. Because you might've noticed that Macey keeps the key to her 'secret' lab on her person and all that. I mean it's not the kind of thing she wants people going in and out of, sleeping with each other in... You know, that's just a bit....non...classy.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Theoretically, Eva and Macey went early with Victoria Ann, if only to; A: Give Eva a chance to inspect the Chimaeras B: Give Victoria Ann a chance to tire herself out so she doesn't talk everyone to death when the guests of importance arrive and C: Give Macey a chance to clear her head.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]About this time I feel I should mention that the more detail your request contains, the more likely you'll be pleased with the results. And the less likely people will be offended. Of course on the other hand, if they've made a career out of being splendid victims, don't be surprised when they start freaking. Direct all complaints to me. I'm impervious. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='2008DigitalBoy'][COLOR="DarkOrange"]I want you to kill Aaryanna_mom. The setting should involve high fantasy and Aaryanna being forced into a situation in which she has to kill her own mother. It should be laid thick with tragic dialogue and melodrama.[/COLOR][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]How do I put this nicely? No.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Dates are pleasant and fun, at least for me. Mostly because I have this ability to totally unnerve whoever I'm out with by smiling enigmatically and pursing my lips at regular intervals. Blind dates are fun to try every once in awhile, but usually end in disaster. And sometimes when you know a person too well before the date, things don't go so well. But the odds of success aren't bad. Of course with a blind date, you never have to ever see them again if they were a bad kisser or a socially inept retard.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i][b]September , 1913[/b] The crewman clutched at his ruined throat, gurgling and choking on his own blood, falling to his knees as the self satisfied British agent slunk past him. The sound of her boots barely loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engine, the creak of her jacket loud in her ears. She kept one hand on the holster of her gun, the other firmly wrapped around the handle of her stinger knife. The Zeppelin rocked gently from side to side, and she kept her legs braced to keep from pitching headfirst into the structure below. Charlotte Hurst stepped slowly, in no particular hurry. After all, a crash is a crash whether it’s close to the ground or hundreds of feet up in the air. The magnificent Zeppelin, designation L1, Production number LZ14, cruised through the thickening clouds, the dull rumble of thunder overpowering the sound of the engines. Rolf Schmertz, German agent, sat in the pilot’s cabin, his magnificently polished boots propped up against a console, his holster visible through his open jacket. The pilot was glad he was there. The crew was glad as well. He was leaning back, his eyes closed, a picture of arrogance and perfection. And Bolshevik operative, Leonid Danilov slipped through the hallways unnoticed by most. He was not a striking man. A medium height and build, dark brown hair and darker eyes. Utterly nondescript and bland; good qualities for a spy. With sweeps of his vision, he took in the details of this massive tribute to German engineering. The Zeppelin company should be proud. But not too proud. Leonid turned in an instant, driven by some sort of instinct, and saw the mad yellow eyes of a white female hurtling towards him. Not panicking, merely reacting, he drew his own knife, seeing the flash of metal in hers. Unexpectedly, she turned, oddly nimble in the narrow confines of the corridor and slashed forward, catching him across the eyes. Reeling with pain, he drew back and she kicked out with her right leg and knocked him to the railing’s edge. Overbalancing, he fell down, the smooth sides of the ship’s hull mocking his desperate attempts for survival. Charlotte didn’t look down. She knew he was dead. Perhaps he had been spitted on the spire of the church that was sure to be somewhere in Leipzig. The city so handsome and beautiful far below in the sheeting rain. The dull clouds gathered thickly overhead, and the sounds of thunder grew louder.[/i] “Send my regards to God. If you make it there.” [i]Smiling at the thought of a heaven, Agent Hurst threw open the door to the pilot’s room, and put one between the eyes of the very surprised Captain. Two other crewmen fell, one bullet each, one tap in the chest. Rolf had already pulled out his weapon and aimed it in the woman’s direction, the first going wild, and the second clipping her through the left shoulder. And she howled with rage, revealing the wisdom behind the Entente sending her on this mission. Utterly mad, she’d throw away her life and deal death to those around her without a qualm. The four she’d already killed spoke to that, not to mention the dozens of lives she’d destroyed on her way here. Rolf was shocked. The Germans would’ve never sent a woman on a suicide mission, and that shock proved to be his undoing.[/i] “Es ist unausführbar! Sie kann ich unmöglich zerstören!”* [i]He looked down, feeling shocks of pain lance upwards through his body. Her blade was protruding from his stomach, and she’d twisted it 90 degrees after entrance, for maximum damage. He grimaced with pain, and raised an arm, shooting the madwoman in the right shoulder. She dropped, eyes wide with new pain. The she smirked up at him with a flash of pride and immense ego. His first shot had taken out the ship’s controls, and they were going down. The only question was would he stay and shoot her a few times in the chest or head, or try to save the ship from a fiery death. He chose the later, and staggered towards the fuel tanks, clutching his badly wounded stomach. But it was too late. They were already leaking the massively volatile fluids across the cavity, Rolf turned with a look of desperation on his face, his own death looming behind his eyes. Charlotte grinned insanely, even as she limped down the path the German had taken. He saw her moving out of the corner of his eyes. Ignoring the agony in her arms, she raised her gun, and fired the remaining three shots into the ship itself. And the fluid ignited. Her mission completed itself. Came a large explosion. A torrent of fire and smoke against the pouring rain and lightning. Rolf’s body burned in an instant, mercifully before his gut wound could finish him instead. Charlotte had dropped her gun and swayed from side to side for a few short while, before falling forward into the metal causeway. The fire consumed her body, leaving behind nothing but a wisp of foul smelling smoke, and the feel of nightmares. The Zeppelin’s untimely end was seen for miles around. Weeks later, news of Agent Hurst’s valiant death while on a mission reached her bereaved family. The Schmertz family, being told their son died a glorious death on the battlefield, held his memory close to their hearts; a treasure to sustain them throughout the end of the war. And Leonid Danilov was forgotten in a heartbeat. He shouldn’t have been there to begin with.[/i] *This isn’t happening. I can’t possibly kill her.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]The pair whirled across the floor to lively music, pink and black, black and pink. When suddenly they broke apart after the female made one miniscule error. Sandy stomped his foot, his voice raising to a high squawk of dismay.[/i] ?No no! You?re doing it all wrong!? ?Explain how I?m supposed to do it right when you don?t even show me how I?m doing it wrong!? [i]Aryanna pouted a little, her lower lip protruding just enough to be cute without being ridiculous. Sandy on the other hand, was annoyed, venting his frustrations on the girl he was supposed to be teaching the quickstep. She frowned at him, then jerked her hand out of his and stomped across the floor to go pet her kind, caring, and completely understanding pet puppy. She jumped up to nibble on her hands, while Sandy ranted and raved, like usual. I lounged over the piano, elbows crossed over the music rack. No point in playing while they argued. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aryanna digging through her purse for something, and shrugged. I fiddled with the sheet music, when I suddenly heard the sound of Sandy gurgling. This was so odd and out of character that I looked up to see Aryanna behind him, garrote in hand. He was grasping at the piano wire desperately, while she jerked harder, her height becoming an advantage, as he was forced to bend backwards against the inexorable grip of her terrible killing device. I held up one finger and was about to make some sort of protest when a little voice in the back of my head said:[/i] ?...and what would be so bad about this anyway? At least it?ll be quiet for awhile.? ?This?ll teach you to be a nitpicking, nasty jerk!? [i]He made some sort of unintelligible sound, while all the while she kept on jerking harder and harder, the muscles in her arms rippling, and the pink of her skirt standing out against the purple hue of Sandy?s face. He tried to gasp for air, but she dug her heels in, which was amazing considering the height of them, and he was subdued at once. Within moments, he had succumbed, and Aryanna stood over him with a triumphant look on her face, the wire coiled neatly in her hands. She gave me a look that told me to put my head down and not stare too closely at what she?d done. Instead I played the opening lines to the piece they had already been working on. Like magic, she tripped across the floor like she had been born to do it, her arms out like she had a partner. Delicately, she pranced over Sandy?s corpse and continued while the music rolled on gaily. And as it concluded, she swirled around in a haze of pink gauzy silk and curtsied. First to me, then to her pet, and then to the poor unfortunate Sandy. I burst into a round of applause, and then immediately went back to not looking at Sandy?s corpse. She opened her purse, which I was beginning to suspect held an entire hardware store, and dumped out about a pound of salt over his body. Then she doused it with gasoline, and lit a match, tossing it onto him with a flick of her wrist. As the flames rose higher and higher, consuming his flesh, I snatched up my sheet music, and headed for the emergency exit, pulling the fire alarm as I went. It was madness! [/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]It was a long evening alone at the office. The sound of hissing traffic on the streets below, the haze of smoke filling the air. And James Manahan, Private Eye, lounged behind his desk. One hand resting on the holster of his handgun, the other holding a cigarette between slim fingers. The sound of his cat purring on the desk, all white fur and big green eyes. Occasionally she would prowl from one end of the table to the other, then sit silently for minutes at a time, twitching her tail in small, delicate movements. Hours passed, with the mournful ticking of the clock on the shelf, and the purring of his pet the only sounds that reached him. The sound of heels in the empty hallway, the clicking bouncing from ceiling to wall to floor and to ceiling again. The silhouette at the door, behind the smoked glass showed a slender figure. Perhaps a job offer. Detective Manahan sat up, extinguishing his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray and straightening his tired tie. She was a beautiful girl. Long black hair, bright blue eyes beneath a beautiful hat a few decades older than her. And she walked across the short distance from his desk to his office with the long, sexy legs that had probably turned heads the entire way here. She sat down without being invited and crossed her legs, pulling down the hem of her skirt to cover her knees. A futile gesture, but James appreciated it after all. A lady like her was an easy target. Best to play it safe. She held a small clutch handbag in one gloved hand, the other resting over it easily enough.[/i] “Can I help you Ma’am?” “It’s Miss actually. Miss Juuthena.” “Well then Miss Juuthena. Is there something I can do for you?” [i]She unsnapped her purse and began to pull things aside, before withdrawing a cigarette. She held it between her fingers and simply watched the Private eye from across his desk. He leaned forward and flicked on his lighter, while she inhaled. He leaned back slightly in his chair, lighting his own and exhaled slowly.[/i] “I’m being threatened Mr. Manahan. I fear that my life’s in danger.” “You want protection then?” “Yes. What you did to Mr. Adam shook this town. Many people have sworn vengeance. And they’ll do anything to get it.” [i]James Manahan wasn’t surprised. He got death threats every hour of every day it seemed. But that was his life, and he couldn’t have it any other way. He stood abruptly and crossed the office to his window, pulling the shutters down. His cat purred on the desk, watching Miss Juuthena smoke. The woman stood as well, wobbling a little on four inch heels, and stood perhaps too close to James. She had already dropped her cigarette in the ashtray, and seemed to be swaying a little. Strange, he couldn’t smell alcohol on her breath. Just as he thought that, she apparently fainted dead away. He caught her with the ease of someone who’s spent some time practicing, and he looked a bit closer at his client. Blue eyes snapped wide open and she slammed one foot down, and jerked a stiletto from under her skirt. With a quick slash, she opened up his throat and jerked away before the blood could cover her. The cat leapt to her feet, spitting and hissing, when Miss Juuthena whirled and threw the knife. It sank into the cat’s throat and the poor thing flopped over limply, its limbs twitching spasmodically in the hideous last moments of life. James on the other hand, hadn’t fared as badly. He had pulled his gun, and as Miss Juuthena ran for the door, he shot. She fell, the bullet lodged in her back, and her life drained out of her, down the floorboards and through the grate in the floor. The detective leaned back, slumped against the corner of his desk, his throat ruined, his life leaving him. He dropped his weapon, the dull clatter filling his ears. His blood covered his front, staining the side of the desk, covering his side. She had a good hand with a weapon. He wondered who had sent her. And he died while he wondered.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]The sighs of burned OB-ites filled the air, while I lounged with a coconut rum in one hand and my boyfriend in the other. The hammock swayed in the breeze, just like a Corona commercial, only without the parrot and the limes. And the Corona. Oh well. Days passed without any excitement. Months then. Nobody had baked cakes because there were no ovens on the islands. Well there were, but they were only suitable for baking French bread, and making pizzas. There were no further horrible burn accidents, because people had finally wised up and only came out at night. Like cockroaches... Dancing, scurrying, playing, dancing on fire... But I digress. After awhile, I noticed a strange thing. There were less people every night. Allamorph had disappeared one evening and not returned since then. James had also vanished into thin air. Desbreko and all of his 97 fans faded into nothing and while I wasn’t surprised, I couldn’t help but feel sad. One evening, in the dusky darkening twilight, Sunfall and Rachmaninoff were seen holding hands, walking far down the beach, until they simply couldn’t be seen anymore. Revelation and Vicky both went far away, but perhaps they’ll be back. I saw Charles and Charlie both vanish. Shy and Indifference's mournful sighs haunted me in the dark evenings alone. Kenneth and Aryanna and Sandy all dissolved into nothingness right before my eyes, everyone going away. Falling apart. And in time the illusory world that we’d all inhabited faded as well. The sound of static. The harsh white. The glare overhead of unnatural lights over my head, searing my eyelids. And then I knew it was all gone. People’s true lives had pulled them away from the fantasy, no matter how improbable it sounded, they were all gone. The only thing left was memories. For a keepsake. For remembering.[/i] [center]~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center] This concludes our evening presentation. Thank you for this, and remember to tip your waiters and waitresses, thanks.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I've always wanted to kill my husband. Just for the tragedy of the thing. But that'll come much later. I can't have him in two concurrent posts. That'd be favoritism.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[RIGHT][IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/maceyellen-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/marieevangeline-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/victoriaann-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][/RIGHT] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Macey's face went through a variety of expressions. In five seconds she had gone from annoyance, to amusement, to rib cracking laughter. Eva appeared to be suffering from the same, and like good and proper adults, both made valiant attempts to mask the good humor now threatening to express itself in the form of hysterics. Too late. Victoria Ann watched them both howl and shriek with unrestrained laughter, throwing their arms around each other for support while they groped for their handkerchiefs to wipe streaming eyes. Eva started to say something, but was overtaken by an attack of the giggles, while Macey attempted to mug a stern look but ended up snorting into her hanky. Victoria dragged one toe across the ground and waited for them to start acting like adults again instead of completely unhinged second cousins. Macey pulled herself together and kept her expression extremely tight lipped, exerting a superhuman amount of effort in the process.[/i] "Now then Victoria darling, I understand your frustrations but...but..." "You really should be careful that nobody sees you....because...because..." [i]Eva bit into the material of her fabric to stop herself from laughing once more, and Victoria smiled up at them both in a burst of good cheer. Not only was she not going to get the smack of her life, but Eva was even telling her how to do it without getting caught. Had the world gone [b]mad[/b]? After a few more moments, the hilarity died down, and just in time, as the carriage pulled up to the entrance for the nobles. The footman dismounted and reached in to help Eva out first, then Victoria Ann, and then Macey Ellen, all three of which looking pretty as anything. Some flashbulbs went off, Eva walking before as Victoria Ann held Macey's hand. Some reporters shouted questions at them, but Macey merely smiled and held up her parasol, sometimes obscuring the view of her face to foil a photographer's attempt at a picture. Then the three mounted the steps leading up to the private boxes of the privileged few, Victoria jerking free of Macey's hand and running on ahead, to claim one of the front seats in the Almagest's box for her own. Eva murmured some excuse to Macey and slipped off, presumably to look at the Chimaeras being entered this time around.[/i] "When will the others get here Macey?" "Well Aunt Harriet will most likely insist that Uncle Daedalus changes his outfit and Harrison will balk at the idea of delays, but Fonty should manage his daring daylight escape any moment now..." "That sounds like so much fun... I can't wait for the races to start!" "Now now, relax. They'll start when they do. And in the confusion you can trip off and pull your little prank, and then come right back here. I'll even pretend you never left." "You'd LIE for me?" "Of course! Why not? This is the stuff being young is made off."[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I can repeatedly crack my toes and my right and left hand pinky fingers. There's something amusing about talking about your vocabulary only to misspell incredible in the last sentence. Now that's talent. I have the ability to see through people's clothing... The power to control sea animals. ....actually I have a talent for sight reading piano sheet music, making others feel comfortable with talking about personal things, and stroking the egos of poor nerdy boys that just wanna be loved.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I leave for five seconds to enjoy the real world and then there's drama. Drama up the wazoo. So MUCH drama that I think this has inspired another burst of sheer genius for the OB celebration. Although now that Sandy's up by his toes, I think I'll take this opportunity to remind everyone that Sandy was nitpicking waaaaaaaay before this little trip down Steampunk lane started. But I've come to accept that it's just the way Sandy rolls and trying to tell him to stop doing it is like trying to remove the stupid from Premonition.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]The Kanzeon's handmaiden touched one toe down on the rock and held the sword in her arms. The men came one at a time. One after the other. And they watched her cradle the weapon in her fingers, caught up in folds of silk and silver threads. It was obvious she wasn't human, but a bodhisattva, if anything else. And the way her clothing rippled in the lack of wind was disturbing in the extreme. Eventually the men dispersed, when it became obvious she wouldn't give them what she held, and instead Gavin and Michael appeared instead. Both bowed to her and addressed her with the proper honorifics. They removed their helmets and bowed to her again. And she smiled upon them both, and drew the blade with one quick movement of her wrist. The katana glittered and flashed in the sun, and she swung it forward in a perfectly controlled motion. One short cut down Gavin's forehead, then one down Michael's.[/i] "Rise and fight. Whoever is the victor will wield this weapon. The sword meant to do good, in the name of Kanzeon." [i]Gavin stood first and pulled his helmet back on, the mask obscuring his features. Michael imitated his gesture and rested a hand on the hilt of his katana, casually. As if he were completely confident in his capacity to best his one time mentor in a fight to submission. The handmaiden gave them a casual nod, then sat down in the lotus position across the rock and rested the sword across her knees.[/i] "Will you be the judge of who wins this battle?" "Kanzeon will do the judging. I'm simply his mouthpiece." [i]Both walked slowly back to their horses, huge beasts, with coats shimmering in the sun. Gavin mounted and drew a war dart from a sheath, Michael doing the same while the two let their horses walk to opposite ends of the field. The girl held up a slim white scrap of cloth in her fingers. Then dropped it. Holding the leather reins in one hand, and their weapons in the other, both gave their beasts a kick and charged across the field, connecting with a clash like thunder. Both tossed aside the darts and dismounted, drawing in a simultaneous motion. Gavin swung down, Michael up, the blows ringing across the meadow. A lucky cut, and the first blood was drawn. Gavin's armor staining red around his left arm. The blow had caught him between the shoulder and arm joint, and the pain seared, rendering his left arm almost useless. Pushing the pain aside he merely tightened the grip with his left arm and attacked, this time defending his left side, while the blood slithered down the inside of his armor. The handmaiden smiled and scratched one thin line into the ground at her left side.[/i] "It's like he doesn't want to harm his former student...But that can't possibly earn him a victory." [i]Just as she did, Gavin turned in a tight spiral and flung his right arm forward, catching his former student on the right hand, forcing him to tighten his grip. Even as he did, compensating for the blow, Gavin pressed his advantage just far enough and pierced Michael's thigh. The bodhisattva's handmaiden scratched two thin lines on the right side this time, and leaned forward slightly, sensing the potential for further bloodshed. And she was not to be disappointed. Michael swung with his katana, drawing his wazashiki with his left hand and cutting Gavin across the chest. The backlash however, was more than he'd planned. Gavin drew his own, and doubly armed, attacked in a flurry of blows, one after the other, some deflected, and some hitting home. Michael fell back, one one knee, stubbornly gripping both of his weapons in nearly useless fingers. The blood had come down, trailing over his arms and making a firm grip impossible. The metallic scent filled the air, and Gavin watched his former student, looking him full in the face, with blood splatter from his own wounds and Gavin's as well marking his cheeks. From the one cut across his forehead, he felt a twinge of itching, burning pain. Gavin turned to one side, keeping Michael in the corner of his vision.[/i] "Well done." [i]The handmaiden stood and stepped down from his rock, the grass parting before her feet. She would have clapped, but instead let a smile play cross her features. She walked between the both of them, and they watched her move, to the end of the field, well past them, when in an instant she drew the blade, and flung it above her head so high that it seemed like an eternity before it fell to earth. Flashing and flickering in the light, and she disappeared, leaving behind only the sword and its sheath. Michael stood, by some heroic effort and made a run for the katana, which had fallen point first into the earth. Gavin did as well, and the two raced across the field, arms outstretched.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='James'][font=franklin gothic medium]Please just go on with the general festivities as you like. I will just have to post about Gustave's little party when I get back on.[/font][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I suppose there will be some noble shoulder rubbing after all. Goodness, it should be a nightmare.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[QUOTE]"Oh, I'm a born aristocrat, my dear. I know how to play the Game of Hearts. Macey is in dire need of a man in [b]his[/b] life after the misery I caused her, and Gustave, on the other hand... He could use some stability to his bachelor life." [/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Oh Sandy darling. Could you please wave your sex change magic wand and make a woman out of Macey? It's so much less complicated that way.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[b][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][RIGHT]This is where you can ask me to give you the deaths of your fellow Ob members as you've always wanted them to be. And by 'death' I mean it in the least literal sense. Death can mean death of the mind, soul, body, spirit, pancreas, spleen... If you want to be a berserker killing Premonition for being stupid, ask me and I can write it in the most sensually graphically violent detail. If you want a massacre of everyone just for giggles, let me know. I'll even give you my own death, if you get specific enough so I know what you want to see. But we'll start with something light and cheery.[/b] [size=1]And tasty.[/size][/RIGHT] [center]~~~~~~~~~~~[/center] [i]The mermaids slithered through the water. The deepest pool in the darkest of the dark corners of Ob City. Under the foundations of the Theater building, there was a subterranean lake. The walls streaked with old blood, the water cold and flecked with specks of ice here and there. It was so cool and quiet, save for the occasional splash of a fin on the surface, or the light trills and clicks of the inhabitants. Sometimes one could glimpse a flash of silvery flesh, or a flicker of dark hair before it vanished again beneath the water, but no sane man ever took a closer look.[/i] "We wants to kill you and swim in your blood." "Come closer...and know us better." [i]And who were they you might ask? That's none of your business. And people who try to ask them directly usually die horrible deaths. Heavy, and full of blood and life, they enter this dark place, called by the song of the mermaids. Only to drown and suffer and writhe with the agony of murky water filling their lungs. Let us take a closer look. Someone's entered their territory, and they know. They can feel it, sense it, taste it...so warm and delightful. This one took a step too close to the water's edge, and a clawed, slightly webbed hand flashed out from the surface and jerked hard on the unfortunate soul's ankle. The male felt his body slam hard against the rocky surface just above the water, his head hitting a solid surface, before another hand grabbed him around the knee and pulled him in. He barely had time for a scream, before he was dragged down, deeper, where the water grew even colder than it'd felt before. And he found himself staring straight into the eyes of Crystia and Raiha. Twin mermaids that had made this dark place their home after so many tragedies above. Allamorph. Their prey. He drowned and choked and struggled but their hands were strong, and the smile playing about Crystia's pale, light blue lips was simply perfect. She had the look of a beast playing with its dinner, while Raiha simply looked cool and detached. As if to say, [/i] "He's simply another meal. Let's finish him and be done with it." "But he's struggling so sweetly. Perhaps we should give him hope?" "Don't play with your food darling. It's bad manners." [i]Regardless of Raiha's chiding, Crystia released Allamorph, let him surface, gasp for air desperately. Choking and coughing and spluttering, he made desperate strokes for shore, when Crystia looped lazily around him once, and jerked him down again by the feet. This went on for hours. The silver finned mermaid, with her trailing dark hair and flashing bright gold eyes trilled a sound that did her for laughter. While her little toy struggled for his life. Raiha idly fluttered around, occasionally smacking her tail against Allamorph's chest to knock the air from it, when finally, Crystia grew bored of simply baiting her meal, and dragged him down to the deep and slit him from navel to nose with one sharp claw. And as his blood trailed up to bubble on the surface, the mermaid's clucked and chittered to each other, giggling and happy. In the blood of their prey.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Satori'][FONT="Trebuchet MS"][SIZE="1"][COLOR="DarkSlateBlue"]I'll be back. Later. With the idea in a more fleshed out manner. Til then I'm taking a step back. Yes?[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]This is where I hiss at you and cry Coward. People will always be there to tell you about your failings, and by people, I mostly mean me. Or Allamorph if he's not too busy eviscerating the neighbor's cats. If you want a satirical story you could've joined In Which Stuff Happens. This is where I kick you and Shy and everyone else who ever liked the idea but didn't go for it when I had the story up and running. Not that it ever died in the official sense, school just started and drove people away with the whip back to the world of dullness and slog and education.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[i][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Petie leapt into action in a manner so valiant and brave that every single women present sighed with wonderment and pleasure at the sight. Cutting a dashing figure in his board shorts and white Lifeguard T-shirt, he gallantly dragged Shy to safety and immediately began to administer CPR. Unfortunately in all the excitement, we failed to notice the return of DigitalBoy. He found Premonition wandering dangerously close to the water?s edge and snatched up up and began to drown him. I suppose it was punishment for not tossing the fight earlier, but since it benefited Gavin in the first place, who was I to bother? Feeling a distinct lack of interest, I returned my attention to the sight of a now saved Shy and joined the crowd clapping and congratulating Petie on his daring daylight rescue. The sun setting in all earnest now, the lights in the palm trees were turned on, and hammocks were strung for some people, and blankets and mats laid out for people who preferred to sleep stretched out flat. The steel drums were replaced by a little night music, jazz I was pretty sure, and I reclined on a double hammock with my lover. He reached out and plucked a hibiscus from a nearby bush and tucked it behind my right ear, signifying my non single status, and I gave him a kiss for his trouble. I looked over and saw Rach and Sunfall snuggling under a pair of thin blankets while Indifference wandered from place to place, asking everyone:[/i] ?Anyone seen Premonition and DB? It?s way too quiet without them.? Allamorph looked up from the coconut he was busily prying open with an injured look on his face. ?Aren?t I doing a good job?? ?Hardly darling. Has anyone ELSE seen them?? [i]I blinked a few times and shrugged my shoulders, figuring that the odd nature of the time warping would ensure that they both appeared in the next jump. But I was bound and determined to avoid any cake that anyone might offer me. It was just too pleasant here. The breeze, the sound of the waves, the rustling of the palm fronds, and the sound of quiet laughter and conversation. Revelation sipped her mojito while Vicky giggled and batted White and Boo with a dried palm frond. Ikillion was lazing like a cat in a hammock, one toe drifting over the sand, while a cat girl massaged his shoulders with what smelled like coconut oil. I yawned hugely and nestled down into Gavin?s chest, wondering if there would be any exciting sunburns the next day. Of course there were. Virtually everyone but those of Asiatic or African descent were either a bright glossy pink, or a radiant reddish hue. Everyone that is except Gavin, who had cleverly planted himself under an umbrella the entire day before. I sighed and handed out the aloe jelly like it was going out of style. On the other hand, Revelation looked totally non burned, Retribution was the same tone as the day previous, and Ikillion was somewhere with his cat girl. I saw Petie with a fine tan, presumably the result of using gallons of sun screen, consoling a rather pink Vicky.[/i] ?I feel like I was baked in an oven.? [i]She muttered to herself sullenly, snatches of words like ?Bloody cockwit,? and ?effin? hell? peppering the air when Ken chose that particular moment to swing through the tropical camp of happiness singing:[/i] ?And these are probably the worst pies in London!? ?If you dare to take a bite!? [i]I chimed in, then caught a narrow glare from Indifference and quickly shut up. The only consolation I suppose was that Allamorph was the color the lobster on your plate assumes after preparation. Sandy was holed up somewhere dark and quiet, probably so nobody could laugh about his burns, and Ezekiel?s face had recently become peppered with a variety of new and adorable freckles. Ah sunlight. You brighten up my day so. Plucking a few pieces of aloe from a nearby bush, I crushed them and rubbed them on my husband?s nose and ears, just incase.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Sure, that's why I was nice about it. Cause I can be just SO nice. But seriously folks, I figured it wouldn't be RIGHT after the bombings, but ah well. Vagueness is so nice.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Shy'][size=1]No, the Cup is today. I figure it's an all-day affair, with several different races throughout the day and night. -Shy[/size][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Coulda sworn me and James had this little talk the other night but no matter. I shall charge along bravely in the name of sheer mindless bloody bravado![/FONT][/COLOR]

[RIGHT][IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/maceyellen-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/harrison-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/almagest/victoriaann-chronicle.jpg[/IMG][/RIGHT] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Macey Ellen Almagest was discharged from the hospital early in the morning, as early as she could browbeat the incompetent twit "treating" her to. She stopped by Fonty's room to find him in high good humor, flirting with the handsome young doctor treating him. Then she paused at Daedalus's room, finding a stately older nurse checking his vitals. She slipped in the door quietly and held her Uncle's huge calloused hand for a moment, then kissed his forehead and slipped back out before anyone paused to tell her there were no visitor's allowed. The carriage ride back to Rosengard was brief and peaceful, what with the lack of any other passengers besides her servant, who knew when to blather blithely and when to just enjoy the sound of nothing at all. Once she crossed the threshold, she made her way to her room to find it just as she'd left it. The other servants had returned her effects and locked up the cupboards and dresser drawers appropriately. A quick bath and a fluffy towel later, Macey was reading the morning papers over a cup of cambric tea while her servant combed out her hair and pinned it up in a gently curling bun.[/i] "What do you think of these Underdogs Mell darling?" "I think they're a bunch of scummy bastards. Shooting Mr. Fonty, planting a bomb in our wine cellar!" "I quite agree with you. Ends don't justify the means right?" "'Course not! They're a lot of dodgy slimy creatures if you asks me." [i]Macey nodded sagely while her servant continued to manipulate her hair, pinning it here and there, letting a stray lock curl lightly down her neck. Eventually she stood to the sound of carriage doors and windows closing and opening and slamming shut again. Then the sound of Victoria Ann shouting and running down the halls. Then she burst into Macey's room like there were people chasing her and bounded up onto her bed.[/i] "My goodness Victoria dear. Where's the fire?" [i]Victoria's brow furrowed for a moment, as if seriously considering the question, when Macey chuckled and began dressing in a light cream colored skirt and jacket, while Victoria buttoned up the basque from the back, chattering away like her tongue would fall off if she paused. Shockingly, the child managed to tug her corset strings just right, tying them off with deft quick movements, nimbly tying the ribbons on the sides and helping her slip into the light jacket. While the child spoke, Macey sat down and began to apply a very light coat of makeup, some of it hiding the minor scratches and abrasions from the explosions.[/i] "They told me that you and Eva were going to take me and Harrison to the races! But Harrison says he doesn't want to go, even though I yelled at him and said that Uncle Daedalus would've wanted him to escort you for the honor of the thing and then he said that I was being annoying and then I said-" [i]During this verbal cacophony, Macey found it extremely difficult to keep a straight face. Something about how Daedalus would be just fine, something about how Lady Bavaria was an icky snot, and then Victoria launched into a discussion of how nice Alecia was. This went on for several minutes while Macey nodded sagely and sipped her tea, offering Victoria a biscuit every now and then. She hooked up her boots, the heels slightly higher than they would've been for any other function. Finally when Victoria paused for breath, she turned and found Harrison standing at the doorway with a melancholy expression on his face. [/i] "You were right I guess. I should go. He would've wanted me to." "Well I'm not going to twist your arm over it. But afterwards you can go back and tell him all about it I'm sure. And please cheer up a little, this isn't a lynching after all." [i]Harrison nodded dully, as if he wasn't even hearing her, and Victoria flounced off in a fit of girlish exuberance and went downstairs to find anyone else to talk to. Macey stood carefully, and slipped on her gloves, plucking a small curled snowdrop from a spray of fresh flowers from the vase on her desk. Harrison nearly puffed out his chest, and she slipped it into his lapel with a certain amount of élan. He held out his arm, looking older than his years. Both sad, but stately, and escorted her down the hall with the light train of her skirt sweeping behind.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Crystia and I were under the impression that the cup wasn't for another couple of days Sakura dear. I mean Gustave hasn't even landed in Czenoble yet. How can he observe the racing of his Chimaeras without being present?[/FONT][/COLOR]