Ƞдҭυʀҽ’ʂ םдυɠɧҭҽʀʂ >>--» CLOSED

[Farthingale]

It was a bit too early in the morning
for this kind of aggressive sexuality,
at least from Cider's point of view.

She rubbed at her earlobe with a flinch.
"Maybe something a bit more calming,
then..." She contemplated adding some
valerian root to Regina's brew. She
reminded herself, with a slow breath
inwards, that Regina was only this way
because it was the nature of her element
to be unstable, changeable, surging...
and ocassionally prompting feelings
not unlike sea-sickness.

Her drink completed -- mint tea with a
dash of fennel -- and poured into a
large clay mug that took both hands to
hold, she moved to the living room,
anticipating the sunbeams that would be
beginning to glow palely across the rugs.

 

[Farthingale]

Cider stared off across the water, vaguely
picturing Regina melting into it like an oceanid.
It wasn't that she wanted the other girl to drown;
she just felt that maybe she would be happier in
the endless waters, free of human constraints
and irrationality. There was sometimes a terrible
sense of the manic about her friend.

At length she answered the question. "All the
time, every moment of the day. But at the same
time, it's healing. It's our nature to heal, no matter
what happens. The Earth never gives up healing
itself."

She gave Regina a sympathetic tilt of the head.

"We need to be aware of our weakness, but we
can't let that stop us from flowing, or indeed
growing stronger."

 

[Farthingale]

Cider's eyes sought the carpet as Regina
erupted into emotion; how like the waves,
to come crashing down to suddenly upon
her, almost as though she had willfully
misunderstood Cider's words.

"We're healing..." she said slowly, gently.
"By not giving up. If we treat ourselves like
monsters... then we may as well damn the
earth."

She waited tentatively for Daytona to join in,
because Cider knew that she would have
something helpful to say on the matter.
She drank her tea, reddish-hazel eyes down,
and sat still like some ancient tree. She did
not want to get yelled at anymore.

 

[Jaques Faizon]

¸.•´¯`•.¸•..>>--»DAYTONA«--<<..•.¸¸•´¯`•.¸

Daytona listened half-heartedly as the two girls went about their conversation and shot a sarcastic look when it was suggested that all of the eggs were for her. She turned the stove off and scooped a spatula full of eggs for herself on a new plate.

"Eat up, girls." Daytona took out the ketchup from the fridge and squirted some over her eggs then slid it back in. She took a seat at the table and began to eat, still listening in on the conversation.

The darkness within Daytona never really felt... "sick." In fact, if anything, her element was healthy. The darkness never consisted just of shadows and night time and the like, but it was an accumulation of most negative energies... the oil in water, the acres of tree stumps in the forests. On a well-balanced day, Daytona was generally sick herself. Poor energies, as well as night and shadows, and the cold chill up one's spine...it was all a part of her. Without the darkness, there couldn't be a good/evil or healthy/unhealthy balance. Daytona's world was almost pure turmoil. Something, somewhere, was always happening, and it had an effect on her, perhaps more than anyone.

She thrived on bad things. And it made her feel disgusting.
So she kept silent and continued eating her eggs.

OOC:

 

[Mort Faux]

>>--»Samantha«--<<
ADD Guardian of Fire

Samantha had been out on the porch for God knows how long, clicking away on a rather large laptop computer, leaned back against the side of the house with her focus on the screen. Sam loved computers, as they let her do so many things at once without having to really stop doing anything on them, going back and forth and usually managing to get something done... when there's something to be done. Other people tended to like it when Samantha had a computer, too, as it was probably the only thing to ever result in her sitting still. Humming along to some dissonant tune in her head, she had about four games of solitaire open, some little adventure game, two text editors (one covered with ascii bunnies and the other a college thesis,) and a command prompt. Whatever she was doing, or not doing, she had certainly had a busy day.

The smell of food, however, was easily enough to pull Samantha's face away from her screen, setting down the laptop on it's side, balanced with the edge of the screen and the edge of the system like a v-shaped foot, out of habit. Standing slowly, Sam stumbled for a moment as her legs had fallen asleep, jammed in a crossed position for several hours now. "Hey!" Sam looked in through the kitchen window to see several of the other girls eating; she gave a big smile and waved at them before going around to the door.

Upon entering the house, Sam quickly about the kitchen and dining area, managing to poke her nose in just about everything as she watched the girls eat and smelled the food. "You guys made lunch without me? Can I have some?" By the time Samantha had asked, she was standing over Daytona with a big smile, leaning against the back of her chair.



 

[Farthingale]

Cider's eyes grew hard, lost focus on the middle
distance and looked right into the back of her
perception, where the ground was shifted by
arrogance and aggressive footsteps, and where
branches were pushed away with a sense of
violent impatience.

"They're here," she rumbled. She was still
once more, but less like a tree now than like
igneous rock, made immovable by millennia.

Around the mountain-top sanctuary, the ground
began to fizz, as pebbles and the smaller rocks
clambered closely to the walls, creating a small
barrier, no more than a foot high. Soon, however,
these were followed by little vines and the roots
of nearby trees, snaking up and through the
stones, binding them. And as this movement
took place, the ground that circled the house
beyond this barrier grew slack and unstable,
with nothing to bind it fast. It would not hold a
human's step, being something like quicksand.

It was the best defense Cider could think of at
the moment. That and willing the trees to slow
and hinder their enemies' progress as much as
possible.

It was still so early. Neither she nor the green
world had soaked up enough sun for the day
just yet.