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Forsaken · 05:07 AM

Ziggva- Elemental Lord of the Earth.

Let me take you down
cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields ~~forever.~~

|____✿___✿___✿____| ::--/--<✬

e a r t h ' s l o r d

✬>----:: |____✿___✿___✿____|

Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone
But it all works out
It ~~doesn't matter~~ much to me.

No one I think is in my tree
I mean it must be high or low
That is you can't, you know, tune in
But it's alright
That is i think it's not too bad

Ziggva, whom has been absent throughout this tale so far, secluded herself within a small, self-made garden within the household. On the sixth floor, of course. Where else could she exercise her creativity within this prison cell of a home? A soft hum pushed past her lips as she indulged herself within her semi-amused mind. A new flower, she thought, was in order. Something friendly, something wild, and abundant... Something for mankind to enjoy. Maybe a little bit of daisy, hmmm... No, forget-me-not would work better. Add some nice texture, like a rose. Oh! Color, too. Pink, red, orange and yellow. A sunset, nice and settle. Hmmmm... A bit bigger, yes, and fuller. And so on and so forth as the flower developed, straight from her mind, to reality. The finished product turned out lovely,

She sighed sweetly, softly, pulling the pins from her hair to let it fall. They had been in so long, her head had begun to receive a headache. Her long hair rippled down her back, and her shoulders, as she calmly took a brush and went through it all. Her garden looked so happy, it did her heart good to witness it. Her bright eyes dancing with delight as she continued to brush through her fine hair. A deep mask, to be sure. To read those eyes would allow any onlooker access to the secrets they held. Her youthful looks gave way to the aged, worn look of her eyes. But none the less, she pulled her hair up again after the brushing had done it's job, and added one of the new flowers to her array of roses, hibiscus, daisies, and whatnot within her bundles up hair. Bidding her creations farewell, she stepped from her bedroom, and closed the door softly behind her.

The stairway was long, and almost uninviting in it's eternal length. Nonetheless, she took one step downward, and another, and so and and so forth, carrying herself in her usual dignified manner down the steps of the house. The silence of the area around her was almost haunting in it's multitude, her ears only allowed the sound of her soft breathing, and the rustle of her dress as she descended to the main floor. She passes the fifth, the fourth, the third, all without much thought to it. This was routine by now, a dance she had down to a T. The sound of a violin drifted up to her, the silence shattering to make way for it's melodic tune. "Ah, Cedric is playing again..." She voices to herself. She smiled and hummed along with it, until it ended in notes, and the sound echoed for a short while before ending as well. 'A pity, I missed it...' She thought, as her ears were submitted to silence once more. The water lord was kind, and friendly. She spoke to him less and less, however. Of late, Ziggva has been secluding herself more and ever more within her room. The interest this life used to hold was fading now, and she found she would much rather detach herself from it, and devote herself to studies once more. Old habits die hard, even after three hundred years.

As she came to her destination, she found it to be full of little, to no people. A smile broadened on her face for a moment, and a small greeting wave came as well, before she walked into another room, hoping to find another book to entertain herself with. She had come close to reading every single book there, now. But she always seamed to find one that had escaped her vision beforehand. And she hoped, sincerely, that this would continue. Sure, she always had a doll to amuse herself with, but that got old after a short while... About one hundred years. Plus, after her past, she really tried to give her doll as many freedoms as possible. She had no use for a female, for one, and for another, she simply preferred to be alone. Her and her doll maybe saw each other a few times a week, at most. And it seamed that they both liked it that way.

Indeed, it only took her about three minutes, once reaching the library, to find a book or two she had never read. Each one at least seven hundred, or so pages. They would amuse her for two or three days. They always did. Her thin, pale, gentle arms enfolded around them as she walked back to the main entertainment room of the old mansion. The white silk, satin, and lace of her long sleeves wrapped the books in a cloak of purity as she looked about her, a small amount of curiosity building, part of her wondering what everyone was up to, where they were... A small need for a social gathering building inside her.

☀S t r a w b e r r y f i e l d s f o r e v e r.☀

Alice De La Cruzze

Y o u 'r e being laughed at...

❝ [L]aughter on one's lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life. ~Hugh Sidey ❞

...By A l i c e De La Cruzze.

Lιмє Sнєявєт

Alice, Ace, Ally... Too many names? I think so. But the one that best suits her, other than the curvaceous and delicate, yet playful 'Alice'... Would have to be The Joke. Because she simply never takes life seriously. Or anything in it, for that matter. Men? Silly little play things. Women...? Eh, could easily live without the gabbing drama. War...? Ultimate play time. Though it bores her... if you're gonna play with knives, and run with guns, (something Mommy always tells up not to do), you might as well have a good cause to do it. Not a He-Said/She-Said soap opera. It's all rather obnoxious and annoying... Not that it gets to Alice that easily.

Now, Alice has been a Vampire for a good forty-one years. Having been turned by whomever-it-was at the age of nineteen. Now she is sixty years of age, and has a better 'Youthful Skin' plot than any of the silly models. Of course, it's something you have to die for. She chuckled softly as the utterly lame joke entered her mind. Her piercing eyes gazing back at her through the large mirror she had placed in her vanity, within her dark room in the mostly quiet manner. Even during the most active of times in the house, it was usually really quiet. Vampires had a way of- well, being silent as the dead. Her brows furrowed slightly and her full lips puckered; that should be well enough Vampire jokes for the moment. She might over-do it... And you always want your audience to crave more. Stickey-notes were few, but bright in the upper left corner of the mirror. News of the current events didn't phase her much. Though, she was a little... concerned about the murmured news about the little girl from the wolf clan going missing. The news about one of her fellow Vampires having been killed was only a shock for the moment. He had shrugged it off after that much time. There was nothing she could do about it, so she shouldn't have to linger on it. In fact; she laughed. Knowing what little she did about the man, he would not exactly be thrilled about everyone whining, if they were. But then again, she knew him very little at all.

If it was the wolves, they were in for another one of the all-too-common wars between the two immortal races. And maybe the dense Humans would join? Who knows. But as she pondered these things, her usual smile faded into a small frown. It was... Unusual. Was that little girl even really missing..? It could be just another elaborate plot. Her eyes blinked, and opened to the smile again. She hated frowns... A soft sigh came as she brushed out her hair with slow strokes of her old comb, from her very late grandmother. She had gone out to restock on her large box of gummy worms, bears, spiders... And who knew what else. But the night was drawing to a close... And even the black curtains that covered her huge windows would not stop her drowsiness as the sunlight came up from the mountains, and the mortals began their day. Her long, soft fingersswept her hair into a pony-tail and she raised a humored eyebrow at herself, before speedily sweeping from her bedroom and into the hall.

She could see no one, as she closed her door and made for the main hall. She felt in the mood for a bit of blood, before she would retire back to her bedroom. She had not truly carried on a conversation with anyone, since the Vampirian Death. Everyone was all serious, and it bored her to tears. Of course... There were those who were upset with her for not sharing the outrage. So she had secluded herself in her room, in order to wait it out. But as she recalled, she kept a pack or two of her favorite blood type in a freezer within one of the usually occupied rooms of the Manner. Unfortunately, as she reacked it, and opened the lid, she found they were gone. A soft pout came to her lips... She would have to try and find a mortal within two hours. Great. She sighed and stood up, making for the front door to satisfy her bloodlust.

Dahlia- Alpha Werewolf

Ďdaнlιa
☾--☾--☾--☾--☾--☾{♕ a l p h a::f e m a l e ♕}☽--☽--☽--☽--☽--☽

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Moments after Vail had left, Dahlia turned to the lovely black male and nodded to him in greeting, and bowed softly in farewell. She had to get back to the pack... The Alpha had orders on how long she should be gone... She was strong... But not strong enough to beat him if it came down to such a thing. When she got too wounded; she turned to a human. She would be done for if that happened. It was a complication with being a common... Not that she was easy to wound, so deeply. Her and the Alpha got along, mostly. He was no genius, but he wasn't dumb enough to expect anothing more than her company of the young Alpha Female.

She trotted to the dens, and sniffed at the air... Fresh meat. At least someone had ben successful in hunting... Yet the little one's were not eating? She growled softly. The Alpha. She had a small bone to pick with him now... she made for where his scent was coming from... And than... She picked up on Vail. Oh, no...They had not been on good terms of late. She picked up her pace, and found a crowd was forming. They were fighting! This would turn out as life, or death... These two wouldn't end at victory. Especially not the Alpha... He was beating Vail to a pulp... This saddened her. She turned her head away to leave... She had seen the young wolf bleed enough today. Until... No... It couldn't be... She heard the Alpha yelp, and silence... Before Vail, the new Alpha made his first howl of declaration. An eyebrow raised from Dahlia, as she smiled a little, amused. Well.. She'd have to see how the fate of the pack played out now...

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

.................................................. .................................................. ..................................

Ďaнlιa
☾--☾--☾--☾--☾--☾{♕ a l p h a::f e m a l e ♕}☽--☽--☽--☽--☽--☽

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Dahlia heard the eager youth, long before she saw him again. She had to admit, she envied the Ferrels... She, being a Common, has a human side as well as Wolf. He, however, was not one ounce human. He was unquestionable for leadership. She still had doubters, in the pack. Never mind that she had proven herself a hundred times over. And how a male, fife or so years her junior, had outranked her? She wasn't bothered by it, in the least. He was strength, she was might, and knowledge. And he would certainly do better than her wretched last mate. "No, Alpha. I am not saddened. You are the rightful leader, as was proven. I am merely intrigued by what awaits out pack next." She said thoughtfully, her tail wagging a bit at well, and her ears at top attention, accepting this audience with her new Mate. She licked her muzzle, and decided mentally she would fetch a drink when this was all done. "And I never avoid, Young Alpha. I simply lead my life to my own tune." She corrected him, before dutifully licking his muzzle and nuzzling his nose. Than she bowed once more, and proceeded to move around the large body that belonged to him.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

James Lloyd Anderson

Zaque

Roslynn Charlotte Leon'idus

яσѕℓуηη ςђคгl๏ttє ℓєση'ι∂υѕ >>>>>>
ĹÁ ßĔĹĹĔ ĎÁМ МĔŔČĨ, ĹÁ ßÁĹĹĔŔĨŃÁ

Sweet little words made for silence not talk
Young heart for love not heartache
Dark hair for catching the wind
Not to veil the sight of a cold world

First day of love never comes back
A passionate hour's never a wasted one
The violin, the poet's hand
Every thawing heart plays your theme with care

- - - - Roslynn awoke with a start, her pale hand grasping the silken sheets between the fingers. Her smooth, honey/milk complexion reflected in the waning moonlight, as the stars prepared to give way to the sunlight and another day in the Paris Opera House. If there was ever a moment where her heart beat this fast, it was not in her bedchambers. She gently shifted her heat over to the large mirror that all of the ballerinas in these more expensive apartments shared. She could catch a glimpse of a few other girls, fast asleep, and spread out in this large room. The deep Persian carpets stood out boldly, even in the mellow light of the night time that was still upon them. thu-thump...thu-thump... beat her racing heart. She could hardly grasp that she was in her room, on her bed, and wrapped snug in her silk and fur blankets. The sheets rustling under her frame as she turned to place her glassy sight on the ceiling.
        
        In the darkness, the patterns of the ceiling tiles looked like many a thing. You can only imagine the fright that might occur of one woke from a nightmare to such twisting and turning shaped. In the day, they were cupids, and angels. By night, they looked demonic. The pale-white of their cloths looking ominous and otherworldly. The strokes of paint that made up clouds and floral patterns looked more thorny. Binding, almost. And it struck a curious, yet fearful beat to her heart. it was slowing now, she could feel her breath returning. Yet strangely, she heard it as clear as ever. Her heart his her chest repeatedly, demanding attention as the organs do from a chapel on a cool sunday morning, beckoning people out of the lazy ignorance their home provides.
        
        Thu-thump... thu-thump... thu-thump... Yes, it was definitely slowing down. She placed a hand there, after releasing the sheets that, up till that moment, she had still been clinging to. She closed her eyes, trying to re-enter the realm of sleep, before the long day of endless, back-aching labor. Dance. And more dance, awaited her. Her arched feet, pointed toes, and slender legs would leap across the enormous stage, with the other ballerinas, and tell a story to the paying upper-class who came to flaunt their status depending on where they seated themselves. The performance last night had gone wrong, though. But thankfully the other actors were well enough in their trade, that they pulled it off without the audience knowing of the rumpus. Oh, but after the curtains closed, you better believe there was a scolding, and brutal punishment. In the realm of entertainment, when you are a puppet performing whatever the world wants to see, there's no room for mistakes. That puts a crack right in the mask you've been parading in. And then, your audience is no longer interested. And these thoughts are what Roslynn ponders as she finally drifts back into a sound sleep, resting her false smiles for just a bit longer... Because if you mess up, they will awaken from the dream you try your best to put over them. And you, will lose your chance to be remembered at more than a painted face that was on a stage, once upon a time.

Kiss while your lips are still red
While he's still silent
Rest while bosom is still untouched, unveiled
Hold another hand while the hand's still without a tool
Drown into eyes while they're still blind
Love while the night still hides the withering dawn

Forsaken CHEEZBURGER?!		Odd Ones Out	#7
	Ziggva- Elemental Lord of the Earth. Let me take you down cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields Nothing is real And nothing to get hung about Strawberry Fields ~~forever.~~ \|____✿___✿___✿____\| ::--/--<✬ e a r t h ' s l o r d ✬>----:: \|____✿___✿___✿____\| Living is easy with eyes closed Misunderstanding all you see It's getting hard to be someone But it all works out It ~~doesn't matter~~ much to me. No one I think is in my tree I mean it must be high or low That is you can't, you know, tune in But it's alright That is i think it's not too bad Ziggva, whom has been absent throughout this tale so far, secluded herself within a small, self-made garden within the household. On the sixth floor, of course. Where else could she exercise her creativity within this prison cell of a home? A soft hum pushed past her lips as she indulged herself within her semi-amused mind. A new flower, she thought, was in order. Something friendly, something wild, and abundant... Something for mankind to enjoy. Maybe a little bit of daisy, hmmm... No, forget-me-not would work better. Add some nice texture, like a rose. Oh! Color, too. Pink, red, orange and yellow. A sunset, nice and settle. Hmmmm... A bit bigger, yes, and fuller. And so on and so forth as the flower developed, straight from her mind, to reality. The finished product turned out lovely, She sighed sweetly, softly, pulling the pins from her hair to let it fall. They had been in so long, her head had begun to receive a headache. Her long hair rippled down her back, and her shoulders, as she calmly took a brush and went through it all. Her garden looked so happy, it did her heart good to witness it. Her bright eyes dancing with delight as she continued to brush through her fine hair. A deep mask, to be sure. To read those eyes would allow any onlooker access to the secrets they held. Her youthful looks gave way to the aged, worn look of her eyes. But none the less, she pulled her hair up again after the brushing had done it's job, and added one of the new flowers to her array of roses, hibiscus, daisies, and whatnot within her bundles up hair. Bidding her creations farewell, she stepped from her bedroom, and closed the door softly behind her. The stairway was long, and almost uninviting in it's eternal length. Nonetheless, she took one step downward, and another, and so and and so forth, carrying herself in her usual dignified manner down the steps of the house. The silence of the area around her was almost haunting in it's multitude, her ears only allowed the sound of her soft breathing, and the rustle of her dress as she descended to the main floor. She passes the fifth, the fourth, the third, all without much thought to it. This was routine by now, a dance she had down to a T. The sound of a violin drifted up to her, the silence shattering to make way for it's melodic tune. "Ah, Cedric is playing again..." She voices to herself. She smiled and hummed along with it, until it ended in notes, and the sound echoed for a short while before ending as well. 'A pity, I missed it...' She thought, as her ears were submitted to silence once more. The water lord was kind, and friendly. She spoke to him less and less, however. Of late, Ziggva has been secluding herself more and ever more within her room. The interest this life used to hold was fading now, and she found she would much rather detach herself from it, and devote herself to studies once more. Old habits die hard, even after three hundred years. As she came to her destination, she found it to be full of little, to no people. A smile broadened on her face for a moment, and a small greeting wave came as well, before she walked into another room, hoping to find another book to entertain herself with. She had come close to reading every single book there, now. But she always seamed to find one that had escaped her vision beforehand. And she hoped, sincerely, that this would continue. Sure, she always had a doll to amuse herself with, but that got old after a short while... About one hundred years. Plus, after her past, she really tried to give her doll as many freedoms as possible. She had no use for a female, for one, and for another, she simply preferred to be alone. Her and her doll maybe saw each other a few times a week, at most. And it seamed that they both liked it that way. Indeed, it only took her about three minutes, once reaching the library, to find a book or two she had never read. Each one at least seven hundred, or so pages. They would amuse her for two or three days. They always did. Her thin, pale, gentle arms enfolded around them as she walked back to the main entertainment room of the old mansion. The white silk, satin, and lace of her long sleeves wrapped the books in a cloak of purity as she looked about her, a small amount of curiosity building, part of her wondering what everyone was up to, where they were... A small need for a social gathering building inside her. ☀S t r a w b e r r y f i e l d s f o r e v e r.☀ Alice De La Cruzze Y o u 'r e being laughed at... ❝ [L]aughter on one's lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life. ~Hugh Sidey ❞ ...By A l i c e De La Cruzze. Lιмє Sнєявєт Alice, Ace, Ally... Too many names? I think so. But the one that best suits her, other than the curvaceous and delicate, yet playful 'Alice'... Would have to be The Joke. Because she simply never takes life seriously. Or anything in it, for that matter. Men? Silly little play things. Women...? Eh, could easily live without the gabbing drama. War...? Ultimate play time. Though it bores her... if you're gonna play with knives, and run with guns, (something Mommy always tells up not to do), you might as well have a good cause to do it. Not a He-Said/She-Said soap opera. It's all rather obnoxious and annoying... Not that it gets to Alice that easily. Now, Alice has been a Vampire for a good forty-one years. Having been turned by whomever-it-was at the age of nineteen. Now she is sixty years of age, and has a better 'Youthful Skin' plot than any of the silly models. Of course, it's something you have to die for. She chuckled softly as the utterly lame joke entered her mind. Her piercing eyes gazing back at her through the large mirror she had placed in her vanity, within her dark room in the mostly quiet manner. Even during the most active of times in the house, it was usually really quiet. Vampires had a way of- well, being silent as the dead. Her brows furrowed slightly and her full lips puckered; that should be well enough Vampire jokes for the moment. She might over-do it... And you always want your audience to crave more. Stickey-notes were few, but bright in the upper left corner of the mirror. News of the current events didn't phase her much. Though, she was a little... concerned about the murmured news about the little girl from the wolf clan going missing. The news about one of her fellow Vampires having been killed was only a shock for the moment. He had shrugged it off after that much time. There was nothing she could do about it, so she shouldn't have to linger on it. In fact; she laughed. Knowing what little she did about the man, he would not exactly be thrilled about everyone whining, if they were. But then again, she knew him very little at all. If it was the wolves, they were in for another one of the all-too-common wars between the two immortal races. And maybe the dense Humans would join? Who knows. But as she pondered these things, her usual smile faded into a small frown. It was... Unusual. Was that little girl even really missing..? It could be just another elaborate plot. Her eyes blinked, and opened to the smile again. She hated frowns... A soft sigh came as she brushed out her hair with slow strokes of her old comb, from her very late grandmother. She had gone out to restock on her large box of gummy worms, bears, spiders... And who knew what else. But the night was drawing to a close... And even the black curtains that covered her huge windows would not stop her drowsiness as the sunlight came up from the mountains, and the mortals began their day. Her long, soft fingersswept her hair into a pony-tail and she raised a humored eyebrow at herself, before speedily sweeping from her bedroom and into the hall. She could see no one, as she closed her door and made for the main hall. She felt in the mood for a bit of blood, before she would retire back to her bedroom. She had not truly carried on a conversation with anyone, since the Vampirian Death. Everyone was all serious, and it bored her to tears. Of course... There were those who were upset with her for not sharing the outrage. So she had secluded herself in her room, in order to wait it out. But as she recalled, she kept a pack or two of her favorite blood type in a freezer within one of the usually occupied rooms of the Manner. Unfortunately, as she reacked it, and opened the lid, she found they were gone. A soft pout came to her lips... She would have to try and find a mortal within two hours. Great. She sighed and stood up, making for the front door to satisfy her bloodlust. Dahlia- Alpha Werewolf Ďdaнlιa ☾--☾--☾--☾--☾--☾{♕ a l p h a::f e m a l e ♕}☽--☽--☽--☽--☽--☽ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ Moments after Vail had left, Dahlia turned to the lovely black male and nodded to him in greeting, and bowed softly in farewell. She had to get back to the pack... The Alpha had orders on how long she should be gone... She was strong... But not strong enough to beat him if it came down to such a thing. When she got too wounded; she turned to a human. She would be done for if that happened. It was a complication with being a common... Not that she was easy to wound, so deeply. Her and the Alpha got along, mostly. He was no genius, but he wasn't dumb enough to expect anothing more than her company of the young Alpha Female. She trotted to the dens, and sniffed at the air... Fresh meat. At least someone had ben successful in hunting... Yet the little one's were not eating? She growled softly. The Alpha. She had a small bone to pick with him now... she made for where his scent was coming from... And than... She picked up on Vail. Oh, no...They had not been on good terms of late. She picked up her pace, and found a crowd was forming. They were fighting! This would turn out as life, or death... These two wouldn't end at victory. Especially not the Alpha... He was beating Vail to a pulp... This saddened her. She turned her head away to leave... She had seen the young wolf bleed enough today. Until... No... It couldn't be... She heard the Alpha yelp, and silence... Before Vail, the new Alpha made his first howl of declaration. An eyebrow raised from Dahlia, as she smiled a little, amused. Well.. She'd have to see how the fate of the pack played out now... ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ .................................................. .................................................. .................................. Ďaнlιa ☾--☾--☾--☾--☾--☾{♕ a l p h a::f e m a l e ♕}☽--☽--☽--☽--☽--☽ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ Dahlia heard the eager youth, long before she saw him again. She had to admit, she envied the Ferrels... She, being a Common, has a human side as well as Wolf. He, however, was not one ounce human. He was unquestionable for leadership. She still had doubters, in the pack. Never mind that she had proven herself a hundred times over. And how a male, fife or so years her junior, had outranked her? She wasn't bothered by it, in the least. He was strength, she was might, and knowledge. And he would certainly do better than her wretched last mate. "No, Alpha. I am not saddened. You are the rightful leader, as was proven. I am merely intrigued by what awaits out pack next." She said thoughtfully, her tail wagging a bit at well, and her ears at top attention, accepting this audience with her new Mate. She licked her muzzle, and decided mentally she would fetch a drink when this was all done. "And I never avoid, Young Alpha. I simply lead my life to my own tune." She corrected him, before dutifully licking his muzzle and nuzzling his nose. Than she bowed once more, and proceeded to move around the large body that belonged to him. ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ James Lloyd Anderson Did I hear my name? James Lloyd Anderson Lets see whats inside of you I stand a wonderful five feet, eleven inches Im about a good 185lbs Im a good looking one hundred and fourteen years old. but i look like a youthful eighteen. I was born a Demon, my dear. Lets look deeper now Want to hear my life story??? Well, I assure you, it's an interesting one. See, my mother was a young German girl, who was very gothy and anti-christ in her youth. One day, as a joke with her little friends, she sold her soul to the devil. Nothing happened, and so she continued to believe it was a joke. She went on with her life until she was about... Oh... My age, I should say. She played another little game... They had a ritual, and all. She bound herself to the devil, and joked how she wanted to bare his child. Moi. But you see... Jokes are hard to take in a jesting manner when you wake up a few weeks later, bruised and the sheets bloody. She thought something completely different of course, and went a little loopy from it. Three months down the road, the signs of pregnancy were clear as day. Except, it wasn't the most innocent sight. Her stomach looked as if it was being drained of all the blood it held. She was hospitalized for the remaining six months, having to be given blood 24/7 and always becoming ill. See... I killed my mother at childbirth. Oh, yes children, that's right. And it wasn't by accident like those of you who have. I have always been conscious in my deeds. I remember my whole life. Of course, over a hundred years ago, they couldn't do much to protect my mother anyway. Doctors were so inferior. I have never met my father, but I feel him... Speaking through me as well as to me. I even raised myself, all alone in a house hidden from the naked eye. My heart...? What they say about hell is false. It's not hot, or scorching. it's cold and dead as ice. It's lifeless and merciless. Which would you rather, a quick death by lava, or being frozen to the bone, and slowly feeling the ice break your life away chip by chip? The winter is the time of hell itself. And so, my heart is cold and merciless. I take the lives of willing and entranced woman as I please, just to feel myself with their warm, unmatchable blood. Their pulse under my lips... It's my only indulgence in this otherwise unsatisfying world. The one who whispers in my ear...... iK E C H E R O .................................................. .................................................. ................................. "Those of you who think you know everything are annoying those of us who do." __________________________________________________ ________________ He smirked as she looked, than looked away. She thought she was somehow 'sticking it to the man'... Him. It was delightful. Now, James acknowledged he was an egotistical douche, and she was probably looking down on him. But it only caused him to peruse. Because he liked her? No. He wasn't even remotely attracted. Her defiant and indifferent nature simply provided an amusement for him until his friends texted back. He sat up, and leaned off of the car swiftly, noting a cute blonde girl from School walk by with another lad latched at her side, than lazily hung his hands from his pockets as he stepped swiftly forward to the red-heads car. The icy snow crunched below his sneakers and shifted as his lengthy pants pushed it aside ever so softly. His breath, still as slow as ever, left clouds of steam in the dim winter air. He didn't have to walk far at all, in order to reach his destination. Once getting there, he simply looked at her with a playfully raised brow, and a small smile. His deep, rich hair framing his slightly chilled face and deep set features. Lifting one hand, he tapped three times on the hood of her car with two fingers, and than pulled it away for the haven of his pocket again. Would she continue to ignore him? Perhaps. But he shrugged the thought away. Either way, he would be in a state of complete boredom. This would just postpone it a while. __________________________________________________ ___________________________ Zaque XxXxXZaquelineXxXxX Before the guy could answer, she heard a 'thump' from a short distance by the fire. "Hold that thought." She said, pulling her hair behind her shoulders as she cleared her throat softly. She drew her pistol upward a little, and stepped t'ward the noise. The fires danced in their twisted ways, offering jealousy to all those who ever dreamed of the perfect dance. The reflection of the flames pounded on the shape, no, body of another guy. different, though. In many ways, he was different. For one, the tortured look upon his face. Was he infected? "What are you?" Hardly the kindest opening lines, but it was what she needed to know first, before deciding to take care of him, or take care of him. She cocked her gun, ready if the need be. "You don't look infected, but I won't take chances if you don't speak." She added after a small moment. This was all so bizarre, two guy's coming out of nowhere within the same day. No, the same ten minutes. That was weird. And they didn't seam to know one another, either. Were there more survivors than she thought? This one even looked like herself and the black haired one, normal. That was a very rare find. His eyes, though, made her want to cry. He looked forgotten, beaten, broken... Like a doll that has been left in a closet, because the little girl doesn't want to play anymore. And Zaque found herself not knowing what to do. Roslynn Charlotte Leon'idus яσѕℓуηη ςђคгl๏ttє ℓєση'ι∂υѕ >>>>>> ĹÁ ßĔĹĹĔ ĎÁМ МĔŔČĨ, ĹÁ ßÁĹĹĔŔĨŃÁ Sweet little words made for silence not talk Young heart for love not heartache Dark hair for catching the wind Not to veil the sight of a cold world First day of love never comes back A passionate hour's never a wasted one The violin, the poet's hand Every thawing heart plays your theme with care Roslynn awoke with a start, her pale hand grasping the silken sheets between the fingers. Her smooth, honey/milk complexion reflected in the waning moonlight, as the stars prepared to give way to the sunlight and another day in the Paris Opera House. If there was ever a moment where her heart beat this fast, it was not in her bedchambers. She gently shifted her heat over to the large mirror that all of the ballerinas in these more expensive apartments shared. She could catch a glimpse of a few other girls, fast asleep, and spread out in this large room. The deep Persian carpets stood out boldly, even in the mellow light of the night time that was still upon them. thu-thump...thu-thump... beat her racing heart. She could hardly grasp that she was in her room, on her bed, and wrapped snug in her silk and fur blankets. The sheets rustling under her frame as she turned to place her glassy sight on the ceiling. In the darkness, the patterns of the ceiling tiles looked like many a thing. You can only imagine the fright that might occur of one woke from a nightmare to such twisting and turning shaped. In the day, they were cupids, and angels. By night, they looked demonic. The pale-white of their cloths looking ominous and otherworldly. The strokes of paint that made up clouds and floral patterns looked more thorny. Binding, almost. And it struck a curious, yet fearful beat to her heart. it was slowing now, she could feel her breath returning. Yet strangely, she heard it as clear as ever. Her heart his her chest repeatedly, demanding attention as the organs do from a chapel on a cool sunday morning, beckoning people out of the lazy ignorance their home provides. Thu-thump... thu-thump... thu-thump... Yes, it was definitely slowing down. She placed a hand there, after releasing the sheets that, up till that moment, she had still been clinging to. She closed her eyes, trying to re-enter the realm of sleep, before the long day of endless, back-aching labor. Dance. And more dance, awaited her. Her arched feet, pointed toes, and slender legs would leap across the enormous stage, with the other ballerinas, and tell a story to the paying upper-class who came to flaunt their status depending on where they seated themselves. The performance last night had gone wrong, though. But thankfully the other actors were well enough in their trade, that they pulled it off without the audience knowing of the rumpus. Oh, but after the curtains closed, you better believe there was a scolding, and brutal punishment. In the realm of entertainment, when you are a puppet performing whatever the world wants to see, there's no room for mistakes. That puts a crack right in the mask you've been parading in. And then, your audience is no longer interested. And these thoughts are what Roslynn ponders as she finally drifts back into a sound sleep, resting her false smiles for just a bit longer... Because if you mess up, they will awaken from the dream you try your best to put over them. And you, will lose your chance to be remembered at more than a painted face that was on a stage, once upon a time. Kiss while your lips are still red While he's still silent Rest while bosom is still untouched, unveiled Hold another hand while the hand's still without a tool Drown into eyes while they're still blind Love while the night still hides the withering dawn "And through the heavy tears I cry, Thine rancid soul; I crucify. And then in Lucifer's arms, you'll lie, Dear Child, where you belong." Last edited by Forsaken; 03-11-2011 at 05:07 AM.
		Posted 03-11-2011, 12:22 AM