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the ballad of OP and denko✿
She felt a scream building up from the back of her throat, and she fought to keep it from escaping her lips. The echo of the scream would surely bounce around in the room long after the scream had stopped and that would be annoying and troublesome. Aemilia wanted no such trouble on her part.
Plus she'd feel bad if she screamed in Seth's face.
Even if he'd fallen on her, the clumsy fool. Thank the lord she had already finished stuffing her face in front of the werewulf and had kind of made her wonderful exit from the room and was about to claim a chamber for her own - his face, anyhow, was red. It was kind of endearing. Aemilia resisted the urge to pat him on his head because a) he was taller than her, b) it was unfitting for a Gorgon to be patting anyone's head unless the head was made of stone, and c) they were still lying in a compromising position that made Aemilia want to giggle and also want to punch someone's face.
"Uh - "
Aemilia hastily scrambled up before Seth blew a blood vessel, his face a shade of red that made the Gorgon wonder if he'd ever had a girlfriend, at all. Poor guy. "Huh. Jesus, I thought you were one of the strong and silent types - guess not?" The green-haired girl smiled a little, hoping to get a smile back - maybe not. Seth had that adorable puppy-like factor that made her heart instantly go "awwww~" although she most certainly was not going to admit that. She pushed the sunglasses up the bridge of her nose again, as they had been knocked askew by the brief and awkward tackle moment.
The Gorgon leaned down to pull Seth to his feet, grasping his hand and tugging - only to slip on nothing but the sleek tile that was the floor and fall forward once again. "Oh shi - "
Aemilia would not admit that her face turned any shade of red, and she most definitely would not admit that they were once again in an awkward position, because damn, it hurt. She had banged her chin against his collarbone (Christ, what was it made of? Steel or something?) and accidentally dug an elbow into his abdomen as Aemilia scrambled to get off of the poor guy. "Oh - oh, d-damn," huffed the green haired girl as she made to get off of him and stop crushing his lungs. "Oh crap. Uhm." She paused before squeaking out, "I'm so sorry, Seth!"
End of a i r l e s s
No... The witch will be an Izaya who is really vain.[ Edit / Delete ] chocorie / 116d 8h 36m 17s
Ideas for the Witch:
[ Edit / Delete ] chocorie / 127d 3m 56s
- obsessed with beauty
- is in love with a human who is using her (she doesn't know this)
- is in love with a human who is using her (she knows this)
- Izaya (LOLOLOLOLOL)
- wants to take over the world or something.
Stuff yet to be discussed:
[ Edit / Delete ] chocorie / 131d 21h 36m 30s
- The reason why the Witch is making the Mermaid do such things is because she is in love. In love with who? A human. She is slave to a corrupt human, who is using her (who is in turn, using the Mermaid) to win wars, become king, etc.
- Also, misemono dolls. Really gruesome, but me gusta. I'd like to incorporate it in here because I'm just weird like that.
[ Edit / Delete ] chocorie / 131d 21h 59m 46s
- The Little Mermaid (using Hans Christian Andersen ver.) spinoff
- Mermaid does not get rescued by the Daughters of the Air in the end. However, even though the Mermaid does not truly exist anymore, her will lives on. That longing to be human was so strong that she was able to somehow communicate with the Sea Witch and bargain for a human soul.
- Mermaid has to work for soul - 5000 years (instead of Daughters of the Air's 300 years) of doing the Witch's bidding, with an added year for... something. We shall think of this later.
- Mermaid's obsession with this soul is so strong, she becomes obsessed with it. She no longer has a conscience - just a constant hunger for the soul, so that she does not care if she needs to kill, hurt, etc., to obtain that soul. It is the complete opposite of what the Daughters of the Air asked for payment for a soul.
- Mermaid's reason for obsession: in her Mermaid life, she did not achieve happiness. She believes that a human soul will allow someone to have happiness. Obsession with happiness.
The first time Ariel tried to enter the Town, the Gatekeeper turned her away because it was noon and he couldn't see her shadow and therefore assumed she didn't have one. "No shadow, no entry," he boomed. So she left and returned at sunset, when her shadow was fine and long and beautiful. The Gatekeeper nodded his approval and cut it off, hooked a leash around its neck, and led Ariel's shadow to the grassy plain where all of the Town's shadows were kept until they died. "Help me," pleaded her shadow, tugging at the leash around its neck. "I will die without you. Help me!" But Ariel was ushered into the Town by the now-jovial Gatekeeper before she could offer any words of comfort to her shadow.
That was two summers ago, before the death of the Gatekeeper. Now it was the Librarian and the retired Colonel who had to take the dying shadows out of their pen and walk them, give them chores, feed them, and send them back to their enclosure - daily. They were strict keepers, and any attempt to see her shadow that Ariel began usually ended in failure. Once or twice the Colonel could be bribed, but he wasn't extremely trustworthy and was often drunk - resulting in bringing Ariel the wrong shadow, or pretending to forget about the promise and the bribe entirely. The shadows of the Librarian and the Colonel had long passed. They did not feel very much anymore, and the shadows' moodiness or pleading did not affect them very much. Thus, they were very good keepers of the shadows - but not good enough. Sometimes a shadow would escape into the red-light districts of the city, and rumors of a shadow thief were seeping slowly about the Town: a thief that stole shadows. It was puzzling to many, but most of the Town's citizens assumed that whoever the thief was, he or she was bound to be happy because of all the shadows he/she was acquiring, no matter how useless they presumed the shadows to be. (The trivial musings of the majority greatly amused the Librarian, but the Colonel took their words to heart and seemed to prosecute anyone who looked too smiley in his presence.)
For two summers, the gate remained closed. No one had entered the Town, and no one could really leave the Town even if the gate was open. Thus, it was a bit of a shock when the gates moved and the ground shook and it seemed as though the world was ending - like the hard boiled wonderland that the Town resided in was breaking apart into white and yellow goops and becoming a mess that no one wanted to clean.
A figure stood in the midst of the trailing vapors that surrounded the Town. Ariel was unable to see him or her clearly, but she assumed that he or she was experiencing discomfort as well, due to the spinning and shaking that had stopped almost as abruptly as it had started. The only aftereffect of the shake was that a few of the lights had gone out and the ones that had recovered were still flickering gently, weakly as they pushed towards full brightness. Doors creaked open sluggishly as citizens peered out, confused - elderly ones waved their canes around grumpily ("Darnit, Mr. Arthur, I betcha you were that punk who caused all this ruckus, all that spinnin' and whatnot - botherin' my achin' bones!"), younger ones exercising their right to socialize and discuss the "exciting" turn of events that the Town had experienced.
Ariel stood in the midst of the gathering noise and squinted through the lifting fog. The area near the gates were was always littered with trash or some sort, or it was just a little dirtier than the other places in town. For one, it wasn't paved with the cobblestone that floored the majority of the streets in the city - and secondly, because it had not been approached for two years, no one bothered to even venture toward that area. There was usually a fair number of prostitutes (usually the pretty airheads that had long lost their shadows) that nightly lurked in that region of the city; however, even they kept a little bit away from the gates.
It was with a pounding heart that Ariel began her trek to the gates - not quite far from where she was, but far enough that the figure was barely an inch tall. She half-weaved, half-pushed her way through the grumbling crowds, a mix of the people who had shadows (she could see a faint light in their eyes) and the people who had lost theirs (an empty void in the pupils), carefully avoiding stepping on toes with her own feet clad in boots. It was not night yet, but the sky was getting to be quite dark - dark enough for the prostitutes to lurk the streets, with their painted faces and exposed necks. The fair-haired girl pitied the figure in the distance. To force into a new place, only to be surrounded by second-rate -
A thought struck Ariel suddenly, and she stopped dead. The Gatekeeper had always been the one to collect shadows, but the Gatekeeper was gone. No one had ever forced his/her way into the city. Her heart started racing, her gloved fingers quivered with the possibility that - no, it couldn't be! -
The person would have a shadow.
She full out sprinted to the gates, blue eyes alight with fire and pale hair streaming carelessly behind her. Bloomer-shorts puffed up with the velocity at which she ran, short coattails flying randomly - Ariel supposed she must have looked quite a sight. She smiled snarkily, wondering if she looked like a monster to the person with (oh please, please) a shadow.
She tackled the person into the dust, grasping the shoulders as they hit the ground, and jerked the figure upright just before the boy's head made contact with the dirt. Immediately, in a slightly hoarse and breathless whisper: "Has your shadow been taken from you yet?"
Aemilia stopped her theatrical huffing and puffing and looked down at the food in her hands, tempted to just shove everything into her mouth, chew perhaps once or twice, and leave. Wolfie was still surveying her with watchful eyes. The Gorgon looked down at the morsels and glanced back up, incredulity scrawled out over her face. Stupid Wolfie was probably going to throw her off into the kitchen if she made sandwiches. Throwing the werewulf a withering glare, Aemilia reorganized the food so that they were secure in her arms before nudging the ham with the side of her arm so that she was able to transfer the meat from her embrace to her grasp, which brought the succulent flesh to her teeth. She bit down.
There was a silence that was only broken slightly by Aemilia's jaws working at the hunk of meat, still giving Wolfie her annihilative glare that she hoped would reduce him to a wilted pile of fur. (And then she'd use that fur to make herself a coat! Oh, the Gorgon had always loved having coats and jackets lined with furs and skins of sorts. She wasn't a huge fan of animals. Perhaps that was why the ham tasted so wonderful?) Finally, after several mouthfuls and swallows, Aemilia spoke.
She thought for a few more seconds and tore off another chunk of the ham. It was almost finished. She ignored the bite that had been taken out of it before and polished the whole ham off. It had only taken moments. Eating always slowed her thinking down considerably. "..."
The Gorgon let the thought sink in. She had just been asked to make sammiches. Sammiches. Sammiches sammiches sammiches -
WAS FURFACE TELLING HER TO GO THE KITCHEN?! (It was like a revelation - Aemilia choked down her last piece of meat - ) "YOU GODAWFUL DOG-MAN, THE HELL I'M MAKING SANDWICHES! MISOGYNIST PIG. PIG? NO. YOU'RE A DOG. AND I'M NOT MAKING SANDWICHES." Aemilia inhaled loudly. "I ATE ALL YOUR HAM. SO WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT? AND I'M NOT GIVING YOU BACK YOUR BREAD. OR BUTTER, ACTUALLY. BECAUSE I'M GOING TO EAT IT. SO THERE. HA. HA. AND YOUR FACE!" the Gorgon tacked on, ending with a screechy hysterical laughter that usually followed one of her lame comeback sprees. It was unnerving, but Aemilia assumed that people would deal with it.
She shuffled the food around in her arms again and secured them, taking an experimental wad of bread out of the loaf with her teeth, chewing loudly and furiously and swallowing it just as obnoxiously - and then spun on her heel (wobbling a little) and exited the room pompously.
[the appoggiatura eulogy]
there is a small once-famous school that sits on the edge of a small island in the north, where precipitation is not uncommon and never seems to let up once it starts. the rooms of this school are filled with treasures that change, be it their formation in the room or the composition entirely. sometimes it is subtle. sometimes it is not.
elegies always plays in the old hallways, those that always raise goosebumps on the skin, or those that coax tears from the eyes. the galleries don't contain more than one or two beings, which prompts rare visitors to wonder how the place is even a school. there are hyacinths that grow on the precipice between the wall and the roof.
dew hangs from the flowers in the early mornings and the late evenings. it is really a very beautiful place, but very lonely. perhaps it is not even a school. no students have been seen wandering the campus that consists of four buildings. there is no school bell. it is merely very tranquil, very abandoned cloister.
and it is the very place where, without fail, the appoggiatura eulogy is and has been played since the beginning of its existence in the wee hours between night and morn.
a seemingly young man called polichinelle grows the hyacinths. on the coldest nights, he plays a cello in a room of grandeur and high ceilings. once he was a trickster, but now he is the keeper of the school, and has been for centuries. he is hungry. he is tired. he is restless. but he is bound to the school.
juliet is a girl. she is restless and bored and
The wolf thing knocked Aemilia roughly aside in his frantic search for meat. Animal meat? Ha! No, the beastie was probably looking for some succulent piece of human flesh to cure his insatiable hunger for - for - Aemilia's train of thought veered off toward another railroad track as she observed that she was still on the ground.
"OI! WOLFIE!" The Gorgon used her suitcase and umbrella for leverage as she hoisted herself up in a way that rather reminded one of some sort of horror movie - maybe the girl from The Grudge - before she brandished her umbrella at the male who barreled over her. "YOU STUPI - " But he was talking over her, and suddenly the air filled with commotion. People that she suspected were also invited to this conspiracy started babbling, wandering about, shrieking and flailing their limbs as Wolfie decided that he would ask for permission to eat someone - no, basically ask if he could become a cannibal. The oldest one (oh damn, he was a piece of eye candy) of the bunch, who had just come out of the house looking harassed invited the gaggle of people (and no matter how annoying, there were a few rather attractive ones) into the dwelling. Aemilia doubted anyone had heard him or his offer to help the guests with their luggage. A scowl dragged down the corner of her face and she pushed her tinted glasses up again before stomping through the door with more force necessary, resisting the urge to see if Wolf-boy had a tail so she could step on it.
The Gorgon still wasn't sure who everyone was, but it was only a matter of time until she'd find out. She'd have fun giving them nicknames - Wolfie, the beast who bowled her over was just the beginning of the whole string of aliases that he deserved. Her fingers twitched. She was itching to just hunt him down and punch his lights out and -
Aemilia stopped abruptly. She found herself nearly walking into a potted plant with garish pink flowers and an almost artificial shade of green for its leaves. That was Wolfie's fault, her brain automatically told her. Fo realz. This is why you should eliminate him! Actually, correction: it. That thing is an animal. Literally. So you won't go walking into things. And yeah. "Nice going, Brain," Aemilia said aloud, figuring that people would immediately label her insane as soon as she blurted out the words, for it looked as though she was talking to an indecently vivid potted plant.
There was a short, confusing pause. Something was amiss. The Gorgon's eyes darted about behind her tinted glasses, and she slowly removed the lenses from her face. She wasn't able to turn people to stone just yet, but her gaze was enough to knock a creature out for a few hours, or give a minor case of paralysis (during which she could doodle on the poor being's face with some sort of permanent marking device). Aemilia glanced around her uncertainly. She was missing something. What -
"Ah, f - " Sprinting as fast as someone who had to puke or something to that effect, Aemilia charged towards the front door cursing herself for not remembering to snag her luggage and umbrella before making her dramatic exit from the scene. She was running out of dramatic entrances and exits to use - and so, she found herself pushing open the door once more with less force than she would've used, only to see the Asian puzzling over a puddle of water, broken glass, and white specks. She looked like she was going to cry - it was kind of pathetic.
- String quartet
- Summer loving
- Fluff thoughts
The rain was either very loud or the car was very quiet. Aemilia believed that it was the former, because she was certainly making a commotion in the back seat: squirming about in her seat, tugging irritably at the seat belt, sniffling loudly, and singing "Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer" in the voice she reserved for her more obnoxious feats, purely to annoy the driver and see if he would crack and finally stop driving and do something interesting - oh, it was really too boring, just staring at the gleaming baldness of the chauffeur's head. If Aemilia had a marker, there would've been crude black scribbles on the back of the guy's noggin already.
The invitation the Gorgon had been given was slightly crumpled and damp in random splotches where it had been caught in the rain. Aemilia picked it up from where it had fallen onto the floor of the car and scrutinized it, still singing in her ridiculous manner. Raindrops were still falling steadily from the cloudy sky, drumming arrhythmically to her "Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer". She had lost count of how many beers were on the wall and started over, closely regarding the vein that was sticking out of the back of the driver's bald dome. Each twitch of the vessel prompted Aemilia to screech the verses out louder before a sudden jolt in the car's smooth movement cut her off abruptly.
"What's going on?" Aemilia demanded, sticking her face to the glass that separated the front and back compartments of the luxurious car (her tinted glasses banged against the shield with a lovely clinking sound), but pulling the microphone that connected the two closer to her in order to make herself heard as well as to annoy the driver further. There was a crackling static sound before the chauffeur replied, irritation spiking in every syllable: "We've arrived, miss."
"OKAY," Aemilia replied, raising her voice and tapping the microphone head a few times to give the driver's ears something to remember her by. "ALRIGHT. THANKS FOR THE RIDE."
"Please don't shout," came the indistinct growly answer.
"NO PROBLEM," the Gorgon roared into the microphone before hanging it neatly back onto its hook, opening the door, and tugging her luggage out into the rain. She ducked quickly back into the vehicle to retrieve the mussed invitation and the umbrella that had been at ready on the seat adjacent to hers before returning into the downpour, regarding her suitcase thoughtfully. She shut the door and the car drove off at an indecent speed, as if it was desperate to get away from the girl. Aemilia scowled; she rather thought her rendition of "Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer" was beautiful. "Encore, encore," the Gorgon crowed with false bravado as she half rolled, half dragged the suitcase to the doors of the large Victorian-esque mansion she had been left in front of. Pushing the slipping glasses up her nose, Aemilia stood in front of the foreboding doors of the villa and shivered. The rain and the ominous set of the building made the whole experience seem like an old horror film. She narrowed her glasses-clad eyes and raised her fist, pounding on the door one too many times, and for good measure, called out: "BEHOLD THE BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL, AMAZING: AEMILIA! - " thunder rumbled in the background, adding nicely to Aemilia's theatricality - and then in an undertone: "No, seriously, open up, I'm cold."
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.