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 Posted: Wed Dec 01, 2010 11:18 am
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Short Goodbyes: Solo RP
Sarias finished a low un-tuneful note, filling the last few seconds with melancholy and regret until her haunting tone gave way to pitiful sobs. If a ghost could cry her face would be stained with tears, her clothes wet with anguish, but alas, she lacked the necessary chemicals to produce such a feat and instead wept with her voice. Her barley there frame stood against the night sky, alone on top of an abandoned ruin, half buried by time, like a stone root not yet ready to be submitted to the unmerciful ground. Draping herself across its familiar solid form she cried out into the night, not caring who heard or what rules were being broken, she just wanted to weep, to scream, to cry out, for this to be a terrible nightmare – Heh, a thought to be laughed at, that would be but a mere continuation of this new life.
Below on the valley floor were neither wind nor life stirred watched two forms ebbing in and out of the moon lit sky.
“How long do you think she will be like this sister?”
The short form that muttered this remark seemed to be peering up at the taller, although hidden by the cloak she wore it was difficult to determine anything it was doing. Waving an aged hand, as if batting the question away, the taller being shook her head, the cloak reacted strangely, as if it moved on its own rather than being moved by the force of a body.
“She should know better than to question our logic sister, we have taught her that much. She can bay all night if she chooses, the decision has been made. In the morning she shall leave this place. If it were up to me such a disrespect of our customs would have resulted in banishment…but alas sister, we no longer live in our times…a small blessing.”
The smaller nodded as if accepting a terrible truth, slowly and carefully she swept her hand towards the ground, picking up the stray envelope that was resting at what should have been their feet. As if pulling at invisible strings the enveloped stretched its edges allowing the tightly folded letter to slip out of its paper prison and float before them. Steadying itself in front of the beings, there was a mere moment’s hesitation, and then with a rush it was open. The words lit up as a crystal blue, the message revealed before them.
A sigh of relief escaped the area that would home a mouth as the shorter being re-read the words, a silent thank you filling her thoughts as she noted the letter still remained the same as it did when first opened, it hadn’t changed, it wasn’t a mistake. As if knowing what the other was thinking the taller cloaked figure leaned slightly as if looking over the shoulder of her companion.
“Acceptance sister… a rare event indeed, but accepted none the less.”
“But…do you think…do you think she will cope, sister?”
The taller being looked towards the faint figure in the distance, the hood stayed solid around its face, hiding a multitude of emotion never to be seen.
“If we are to continue…to survive sister. She must go, for that there is no uncertainty, she has to continue a promise we are chained to obey, there is no doubt sister, no choice, just…”
“Acceptance, sister?”
“Yes sister, acceptance…”
The next morning brought with it fresh crisp winds that swept sleep from Halloween Towns residents…well the ones that had been sleeping that night anyway, it was difficult to tell. Dew rested upon the pumpkin leaves and bejewelled the spider webs, the wailing of the spectral ghost diminished to be replaced with the growls of the stone gargoyles, the sun now up, trapping them back in to marble prisons. The journey to the academy from the banshee territory would have taken a full day, if you were a flesh walker that is. Luckily (or “un” depending on your view point) Sarias was all ghost and thusly could move with the wind, travel the currents of the air, making travel no more than an hour or two in passing.
The two sisters had warned her of the few laws and rules they had heard about in regards to the school. They marvelled in it high stature, the impressing exam grades, the rolling school grounds and up to date textbooks, the respect the teachers gained ( false rumours also reached their ears) and the honour of gaining a passport to the fleshy world, this, all this, was now a possibility for the budding banshee, and was she grateful for such a opportunity? Well? Was she?
Well….maybe not in so many words…no being the main one.
“Uhhh its so….tacky” Sarias mumbled as she floated towards the outer gates, one side closed the other half open, her hands wrapped around the metal poles that criss-crossed throughout the barrier as she came to a float-still. Pressing her face against the cool metal she looked out upon the grounds. The Academy grounds stretched out before her filled with swamp playing fields, outdoor dinning areas, Graveyards perfect for studying under long dead trees and pot holes…quite a few pot holes. The towers of the Academy spread out into the sky as if clawing at the dark clouds, the Gothic décor once screamed (literally) expense but now had a dull tint of time and dust. Sarias imagined one of the Demon specialist Academies were every room would be filled with the latest everything a school needed and more and then she thought of this place…she would be surprised if her locker came with a key much less all four sides.
A group of students made her freeze suddenly as they ran past her, oblivious to her floating there, her eyes not wavering for a moment as they moved down the long path to the building. “1..2, 3...4…whew” Sarias shook her head, realising she had now by-passed the bars and was sticking her head through the other side. Backing up she took, what could mistaken to be, a very deep breath and exhaled, her hair rushing forward in front of her as if she were breathing with her whole form and not her nose and mouth.
“Keep it together Sarias, ye have yet to step foot in the place, four measly being are no dent on the amount waiting inside.” She said in hurried tones, telling herself off rather than soothing her mind. Now that Sarias spoke aloud it was clear she had a soft but detectable accent, Celtic Irish in nature, but something more tribal and old, not yet the modern twang heard today in the fleshy world, not that she would know. She didn’t know where she had learned to speak in such a way, her sisters spoke in their own dialects, yet she, as so often was the case, had to be different in near enough every way.
Her school bag, an unwelcome but accepted parting gift from the Coven, stuffed full to the brim with useless items (Sarias words) was currently hovering behind her, like an unwanted friend, bobbing up and down ignored. The long tendrils that hung from her dress seemed to keep her bag steadily afloat. They moved like mist and smoke around her & reacted to emotions, thoughts and actions that Sarias had no control over. Three of the more sturdy looking tails were wrapped tightly round her procession, these she could control, even if it wasn’t for very long.
She had been told about the rules in which all beings if gifted with the ability to be tangible, invisible, large and hairy – or of non-descript humanoid features they would have to be that – humanoid. Sarias still had the vision of a human torso, head and arms, long hair and vocal cords. But her legs, they seemed to fade in and out with her dress. Sometimes she could see them, her feet and toes eluded her, she could not remember if she were wearing shoes or not but just in case her Sisters had packed an old pair they had found somewhere (she didn’t care to check, it was best not to ask) and she knew as soon as she stepped through the barriers that her legs would be making a welcomed return.
Her first steps should have been a moment of triumph, a delectable notch in her ever growing book of skills. But alas, that wouldn’t be “spleen movie material” no, no, it had to be something utterly…embarrassing! And for how ever long Sarias had been in the Halloween world she had yet to fully understand the pressure of weight (or the social pressures for that matter!) She was barely skin and bones at the best of times, but her legs had decided at that very moment that she was indeed a fat hefting lake monster and needed to give way right then and there and not a second later.
As if cheering for the fearteam Sarias arms rose up in an act of protest as she landed smack down on her face “Ow” – a sound slightly muffled and squeaky arose from the mass of blue hair covering the ground. Her face now quickly getting use to the feeling of dull pain – a side effect of her ectoplasm becoming solid any force quick and strong enough to hit her made her ectoplasm ripple like water, causing great discomfort. So this was what it was going to be like huh? Her sisters big dream of her doing well and continuing their traditions, not to say the social pressure of being a good ghost anyway, let alone exams, making the (odd) acquaintance! Lifting her head ever so slightly to see the long path winding towards the academy it took Sarias a few moments to realise what she had landed on...so pets were allowed in the school grounds? Fantastic...
“I hate my death...” |
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 11:01 am
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 10:30 am
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Posted: Thu Dec 30, 2010 11:28 am
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Meeting Ichabod: [Solo Rp]
So this was it, the moment she had feared, dreamt about, fought over with her sisters and lost. The icy grip closed round her throat froze like a vice; her corset unnoticeable was now constricting her chest, ribs crushing, hands sweating, and her tendrils in a blaze of anticipation. She exhaled smoke, her ectoplasm rippling as it fought against the spells that contained her in this solid body. She wanted to run, to scream down the halls, to rip at the passerby’s, to induce them with the panic she felt and cause mass meltdown so she didn’t have to feel alone with it, the pressure in her head was drowning.
Anyone would think a trial had been laid out before her, a final exam, a fight even? Of course such a thing wouldn’t be possible, she had only just started! This was her first lesson, of her first class, at her first proper day at the Academy and Sarias had never felt fear like it. It wasn’t the nerves of starting something new, or the questions she had over lessons, her worry of not being able to learn something from them. No, nothing so trivial! It was the incredible over crowding of the school system that pierced her core (yes even in Halloween town it was a problem!)
The class room started mere meters away but she could already see most of the chairs had filled up, the lounging students causing mischief till the teacher arrived, throwing fire crackers covered in the goo scrapped from the back of an un-expecting monster. The more studious reading the final text in dusty books as the layabout’s crannied necks to see what they were writing. This again didn’t bother her too much (although ungrateful students were at her top of her “maim list”) it was just the amount of them, all squirming close to each other, a hairs breath away, claws catching fur, scales touching slime – the mere thought was bringing up the ghost friendly gruel Sarias had forced down that morning.
“I can’t do this.” she thought desperately as her frame shook with ragged breaths, hyperventilating was nothing new but in this unused body she was becoming light-headed (not unusual for a ghost!) and her body shook with nerves. She had no idea why a crowd brought this effect into play – ever since she had grown from the primordial ooze of death she had hated the thought of being near others, and in the event of a group! The mere idea sent her in to hysterics. Nothing her sisters had done had calmed this emotion; in time they had learned that it just had to be dealt with.
The letter that was pristine that morning was now dog-eared and ruined; her fingers had crushed the life out of its neatness and had substituted it to paper torture. It words contained reasoning, ( begging would be more correct), as her sisters knowing of the trouble she would cause had asked the teacher to be lenient, to sit her as far away from the rest of class as monsterly possible and to allow the odd panic attack to disrupt the lesson. Hellma would have laughed, and possible thrown something Sarias way if she had known about the letter and her futile request. But there was nothing else the banshee could do, she had a choice either face her fears or go back to the Coven a failure, let down those that had cared, clothed and taught her this new life and be the cause of a contract thousands of years old being broken. She would never forgive herself…but on the other hand, she could almost forgive herself for playing hooky.
Turning on her heels she fled as fast as her unstable legs would allow her, slipped between students as they hurried to their next class, her body weaving through them accompanied with mini “eeks” when she got that bit too close. She didn’t stop running till she had fled the building, or when she hit the eating area, even the swamp didn’t get a second glance! It was only when she came to rest by some ruined gravestones that reminded her of home did she finally collapse onto the sodden floor.
“You candle-jack, you absolute pathetic fool!” She howled as she tore clumps of dead grass from the ground, the filth and grime turning her fingers black as she keeled down, her chin pointing up to the sky as she watched the dark clouds gather. “You’re worse than those who do not care for this privilege, this honour, you dare call yourself a student.” Anyone in hearing distance would ponder on this self lashing of insults and then quickly run away, but sadly like the panic attacks this was a frequent occurrence. Sarias was her own worse enemy, and upon realising this would then beat herself up over that as well. Strangled sobs escaped her throat as she tried to calm down. She hated the power this phobia had over her, she despised its ability to make her weak, to miss classes and on her first day of all the unluck! Within the pitiful wails a soft tune was escaping her blue lips, a humming note and then a few misguided lyrics – she was trying (unsuccessfully at first) to sing.
♫ Reveal to me, let me see, the precious face of yours. In darkness, where I'm alone, come forth with your wars.
Lucifer, brand me with your mark, Lord of darkness, come out from the dark ! ♪
Red morningstar, watch me attack, I shall reveal, weak son of god, forever the human lies spreading all wrong, crushed by all his evil arts, evil arts of war! ♫
Lucifer, brand me with your mark, Lord of darkness, come out from the ♪dark!
She held on to the last note until the tears ceased to fall from her eyes, her ectoplasmic pulse stilled within her as her phobia lifted like that of her words. She was herself again, albeit now filthy and still pissed off, but no more tantrums. It took her a few moments to notice the grisly mewing behind her as she tried to wipe the dirt from her hands, if she were back in her natural state she would simple vanish and leave it hanging mid air. The culprit of the noise was a small Gremlurk its ratesq features puzzling over its new toy, a very independent smoke tendril that was teasing the creature, sometimes this worried Sarias but she quickly dismissed it, she couldn’t be bothered right now with her self-thinking tentacles.
“What do you want you filthy little scrub” Sarias muttered as she pulled her wisps back into her dress, the mammal chasing furiously until it bumped into her leg. A startled look crept across its features as he wondered why the game had ended. “Gruuuph” it snubbed as it stared up at her, its eyes revealing its intense loathing for this party pooper.
“Humph! Horrible little creature, go decompose somewhere else” Sarias roared as started to gather her skirt up as if it were a bundle of hay, grabbing at stray strands of smoke as she folding it upon itself in her arms. “Nasty bothersome smelly rat…you’re a beggar of the streets, a gross drain on society, a disease ridden heterotroph!!” Staring down at it with all the hatred she could muster she berated the little animal for a further 5 minutes until all the words she knew, and a few she didn’t know she knew, came spewing out. The Gremlurk’s stupid expression of totally bewilderment as it stared back at her only increased her fury! She could feel the stitches of her mouth working their way loose but she could also feel something else – a deep feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was satisfied.
This animal had taken her worse insults, her most heart wrenching comments and still it sat their and stared – unhurt, unflinching, no tears or cries of protest, nothing she would have to deal with or get punished for, and if felt fantastic! To get all this unused anger off her chest without having to hold back a single abusive word was like…well she couldn’t quite think of the word but she knew it was good. Giving one last dirty look Sarias twisted round on her heels (she was becoming quite adapt at this) and stormed off in the direction she had walked from, only stopping to look back over her shoulder.
“Well!!? Are you coming or not!! Idiot!” The little Gremlurk was unsure of this shouting game, it wasn’t as fun as the other but there may be food and belly scratches soon (some other students had introduced him to these wonderful things) so all good common sense was telling him to follow. Scampering behind the Banshee a stray wisp of her dress wangled lose and started to once again play and tease the animal, Sarias couldn’t be sure if this was just a random impulse of a tendril, or a branch of friendship.
She stuck with the impulse.
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Posted: Thu Dec 30, 2010 11:33 am
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Posted: Thu Dec 30, 2010 11:38 am
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Posted: Thu Dec 30, 2010 11:42 am
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Posted: Wed Jan 12, 2011 9:01 am
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Posted: Wed Jan 12, 2011 9:05 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2011 10:37 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2011 10:41 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2011 10:55 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2011 11:54 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2011 11:56 am
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[Solo] A mind unhinged for you
Word count: 1011
Sarias had spent the few hours after the charity auction trying to sooth her aching throat. her voice horse and brittle, and the area between her head and neck was on fire. Even in her natural state it didn't seem to stop the burn that was growing deeper. Why was her screaming having this effect? She knew of other banshees, banshee who were in physical, solid forms and could scream a house down! So why was she suffering like this. She coughed into her hands, the transparent liquid on her wrists now dry but her mouth replaced it all when she spluttered in pain. She thought over her encounter with the Boggart and grimaced. Wrapping her arms around her to place her hand on opposite shoulders she closed her eyes imagining the scene.
"What did i do?"
She shook her head in protest to his voice ringing in her head. "Uhh you didn't do anything." She echoed, up until that point she had enjoyed herself. She was freak go sue her. But whatever he did to make her tingle like that, he had it in spades....the creepy little s**t that he was.
The clunking of glass against floor board cut her thoughts in half, peering over to her door she saw a cider bottle roll gently, coming to a stop beside her bed. She allowed the air in the room to pick her up and she floated towards it reading the label as she drew closer. "hmmm..." she grinned as she recognized the heavy duty moonshine version of cider she knew as someone's preferred brand of poison. Pushing a smoke tendril towards it she forced it back to its right side up, and with a twist of another she pulling the cork out with "pop!" In this form she couldn't drink, she had nothing to process it....but that didn't mean she couldn't get drunk. As quick as she could she jumped up into the air and shot herself into the bottle, flying down its neck until she reached the amber liquid inside. Once there she spread her self out to become one with cider. In anything larger than this bottle liquid of any sort can be deadly to a ghost, but contained within its glass walls she was allowed to wallow within its heavenly confines.
It wasn't long till the amber liquid had coloured Sarias a sticky shade of yellow. Her whole ghostly form had taken on the alcohol and the effects were very, very apparent.
"Where...where the *hic* is that....ohh...what am I looking for? Oh! Hahaha! Stupid *hic* stupid...knife thingy!"
This was a new low for Sarias. Not only was she now completely drunk but she was talking to her tools. Her athame was dragged unceremoniously from its silk box. Jewelled and encased in gold it was a prized possession and one in which had been passed down to her from her Banshee sisters that cared for her. It was a leaving present as such but a useful tool that she would use forever until she too would pass it on. Not bloody likely, it was hers. End off. But sadly now it was being used as a glorified tooth pick than a sacred tool of the goddess.
***
Ripley had taken it upon herself to hid from her master, it had seemed more than a good idea before the knife was picked up and now, well, the dog counted herself lucky that her mistress was looking away from her, scratching the blade into the wall. The hound watched her for some time, the occasional hiccup and stumble stopping the banshees work as she ruined her wallpaper. Long strips fell away from the wall as she dug in the metal. She did it with an almost feverish need, as if what she were doing would complete her. The dog hid its eyes behind ghostly paws as it settled itself behind her desk further. There would be no good out of this.
***
Sarias on the other hand was having a ball. She wasn't sure what she was doing only that her mind felt at peace, the voice in her thoughts was soothing and calm telling her what strokes to do with the blade as she cut a large square out of it, some of the edges tore and ripped in hung haphazardly onto the floor as Sarias ran a flat palm up the cold plaster. "This will do, this will do." She uttered to herself, agreeing, telling, it was hard to work out who was speaking to who now as Sarias brought the blade away from the hard surface...and into her skin.
"Uhhghh!....uh...yes..." The blade slipped into her flesh so effortlessly it didn't seem to have worked but the clear ectoplasmic liquid soon seeped out onto the floor as she stared at it hungrily. The booze helped her feel no pain as she dipped a finger into the pooling gunk. It felt silky under touch and would perform its job well. She cupped up a handful allowing the blood to smear over her palm as she leaned into the wall. She moved fast, taking slow turns when needed but worked at a rate that would have this ritual finished in no time. Not that she really knew what she was doing. Only that it felt right. It felt so right...
***
It was some time after Sarias had left that Ripley finally emerged from her hiding place, fur still on end as she sniffed the room gingerly. There were many bad vibes here and a smell...a smell that was bitter and strong in her nostrils it hurt. She wanted to escape, yet she was imprisoned in this room for now, until her mistress showed some warmth and allowed her out. Until that time she would wait, she would taste the blood on the floor beneath the old paintings of Sarias coven, she would sniff at the decaying wallpaper hanging all around and she would stare confusingly at the words written on the wall in her masters blood.
Icky, Icky, Icky...
Scarentine Party - [Read it here] |
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