:: is actually crying::
Um..
Yeah..
I think that speaks for itself, the crying.
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:: is actually crying::
Um..
Yeah..
I think that speaks for itself, the crying.
aww...don't cry...
umm...you can try and feed me to undead minions if it'll help...
Now I'm having this sad smile across my face.......
Bay'ah al-Ashder al-Wardah
The oath of the Dragon of the Rose
SpoilerOh beloved, I call out to you
Forsake me not, forget me not
As I love you
And remember you eternal
A crown of flames upon your head
And a crown of roses in your eyes
As sure as I draw breath
My heart is yours to have
And as sure as my heart is yours
My saddle is yours to ride
I will fly you to the stars
If you only ask my back
Scorn me not, however
As then in breath I will lack
And I am still yours
Until your scorning comes, or death
And wish you were mine
To love as I love you, forever and unbound
Oh dear beloved, love is but fickle
But after for God in heaven
The truest love one can find on Earth
I have found in you
Wow... This thread periodically reminds me that I am capable of emotion. :smalleek:
*Gets to finishing current work.*
I'm probably going to write a ship tonight. Anybody interested?
Ooh! I'm always up for being shipped if you're still open! :smallbiggrin:
I don't mind either.
Oh, anyone can either ship my Red Mage or Wolf persona (or whatever you call it). Or both =\
I might write some as well =\
Sure, head me in! I always enjoyed being shipped.
I'm always up for shipping. I'm a ship-slut. I'll ship with ANYONE.
Oooh! Me! I'm a ship-slut!
Oh. I just had a deliciously brain-melting idea.
Raistlin/Vespe. :smallwink::smallconfused::smalleek::smalltongue:
Is anyone going to get murdered? I wanna be the murder victim! I haven't been killed enough yet.
As requested, a Vespe/Raist, with cameos (or at least references) to myself and Rand.
SpoilerNow -
The mist across the window hides the lines
It was one of those magical gigs. You got in, everything was great, downed a beer, talked to some fans, and played without any technical hitch. You signed a few autographs, got your guitars packed up and left.
But nothing hides the colour of the lights that shine
Rand and Chumley drove to their motels after the gig, and in a fit of ego, Vespe had hired a limo to take him to his hotel. Raistlin was about to get into the van, when Vespe gestured for him to come over to the soon to be departing limo.
Electricity so fine
"I thought this was the best bassist in the world's limo", said Raist drily. "Look, I'm sorry I gave you a hard time about the fanmail thing, okay?" Vespe sighed. "It was immature of me."
Look and dry your eyes
"It all right."
We -
So tired of all the darkness in our lives
The limo arrived at the hotel. It was spring, and it was warm out, and the limo driver managed to hide his contempt for the shabby Holiday Inn.
With no more angry words to say
"Do you want to share a room? I mean... as long as you're here..." Vespe trailed off. "...Sure." Vespe's relief was tangible.
Can come alive
"Wait... Where's my stuff... Godammit Chumley..."Raist was obviously not pleased to realize that that pesky green guitarist had made off with his stuff, no doubt looking for money. "Can I borrow some..." "I have an extra change of clothes, yah." This time, it was Raist's turn to be relieved.
Get into a car and drive
"It's only ten. Do you wanna see if there's anything going on downtown?" The one redeeming quality of the hotel they were at was it's central location in the town. "Nah, I'm tired. Go ahead, though."
To the other side
Me babe - steppin out
Into the night
Into the light
You babe - steppin out
Into the night
Into the light
Raist sighed and watched his bandmate wander away.
Critique. That's an order!
I love it.
A few technical errors, though, which bugs the grammar Nazi in me.
Which doesn't stop it from being incredibly awesome. :smallbiggrin:
Well, not so much grammatical, but Vespe seems awfully relieved at Vespe trailing off. :smalltongue:
I'm sick, and these probably won't make any sense. I just had a spurt of creativity.
Because I love me some unrequited love...
These Games
One sided Mordokai/RHL (which is really just an interaction between RHL and the dryad)
SpoilerThe dryad pouted as, once again, she was being tied up by Rabbit, an acorn from her tree stuck in a glass of water under her chair.
"You know he'll come for me. He'll stop you. He always does." Rabbit, standing behind the seated dryad, halted her movement, and, for just a moment, the dryad didn't quite think and hoped that the villainess would let her go.
"Its what I'm counting on." And the rope was pulled extra tight, so much that the dryad wondered if she would bruise like the last time.
"Why do you do this over and over again? Aren't there, like, other paladins to bother once in a while? Doesn't this get boring?"
The hatter swung around from behind to other woman, sitting down to look her directly in the eyes, smirking.
"The other paladins don't have such pretty damsels who would look wonderful as undead. Perhaps I'll grant you a gift and infect you with vampirism." Rabbit chuckled. "I'm sure 'Kai would love that."
The captive was silent for a few moments before she glared, her eyes connecting with Rabbit's hazel ones, unwavering.
"You always say that. Always threaten to turn me undead, but you never do it."
"Because your lover" The word was spat like venom. "Always interferes."
"Because you wait for him! You could do it right now, while he's gone, instead of sitting there bantering with me! You think you're fooling everyone, abducting me, making all those homoerotic comments, but you're not! I see how your eyes glitter when he shows up to rescue me, how you're instantly at your best. You're apathetic til he walks in through that door, and then suddenly you brighten. Do you even really like being the antagonist, or are you just out to-glurk" Rabbit had moved faster than the dryad had thought was possible in a human, her violet hat discarded to the side, long pale fingers wrapping about the dryad's dark neck. In a way that terrified the dryad, Rabbit leaned close, hissing in her ears.
"Yes, perhaps you speak some truth, tree nymph. Perhaps this is all a ploy for his attention. But you'll never know now, will you? I'll ki-" The clatter of metal on a cold marble floor surprised Rabbit, and her hands flew back from the neck she had been pressing down on, the dryad coughing and spluttering.
Rabbit quickly adjusted, smirking as she held her hands out in greeting.
"Took you long enough, Mordokai."
I also have a half written one that I promised Happyturtle some time ago. I'll probably post it later tonight or tomorrow, inbetween vomiting.
Wait, we can bark orders around?
Critique my poem! That's an order as well!
What has come before and alongside...
Prelude - Discernment
Prelude - Interstices
Prelude - Hunter's Green
Part 1 (by RHL)
Mad Season - Adaptation
Mad Season - Adagio con brio
--
Spoiler
The Warden's voice slid into the silence. "Ahh. Mister Renfield. How apropros to the moment. I would like you to meet Doctor Curly. She'll be starting with us soon."
The silence that answered the warden's comment took a moment to register on his senses. Though he'd never counseled the man himself, even in the brief occasions where his work brought him near where the man was kept, there had always been a sort of undertone of noise that seemed to follow the man about; whether it was oddly whispered words, fearsome thrashing, quiet, almost sibilant singing, or even just the sound of fingernails scraping along the walls and door, the man was always amidst a stream of so much ... audible rubbish. The silence thereby, once it registered itself upon his senses as important, made him distinctly uneasy; if he were a less logical man, he might even say it made his flesh crawl. He turned his head just enough to regard how his newest doctor was taking in the scene.
For her part, she regarded the odd little lump of a man before her with curiosity, a measure of pity, and yes, even a little nugget of contempt, though she immediately clamped down on that feeling, dismissing it as unprofessional and unworthy. 'I know nothing of the man before me and the circumstances that led to his stay here, after all,' she thought quietly to herself, taking a moment to re-fan the small collection of documents she held in her left arm, close to the chest; her degree, references from her professors, and some forms the Warden had given her to complete. It didn't really matter, she supposed - as she understood from their earlier discussion, they would start her with less ... potentially volatile ... patients, with observation to see how she handled herself and established rapport. There was something about the way he was looking at her though, that sent an odd tingle crawling down her spine, to settle at the base, where it lingered oddly. She drew a slight breath to comport herself. That gaze ... in one part it seemed almost worshipful; in another, she could feel those eyes regarding her with the same sort of assessment that her father brought to bear when regarding a particular slab of marble to determine what might be made of it.
"Mister Renfield," she inquired gently, hoping perhaps to draw his attention away; and if perhaps the tone might provoke him to break his silence, all the better. Moments passed slowly, and the Warden reached across to her right arm, to guide her away for now.
It was in that moment that the silent aura that surrounded the madman was broken; his gaze shifted, regarding the warden's hand as though it were a snake.
"Red King waking! World shaking! Tarry not to fall, upon the breakers' call. Alice leads the ball."
Renfield paused, trembling in his restraining jacket. "Dormouse, Cheshire Cat, Mock Turtle, Gryphon, Jabberwock, Queen," he murmured like a chant, reaching out to touch the woman's left hand just a moment, then flinching as if struck a blow, falling in on himself, and scuttling away like a deranged crab.
"My apologies, Doctor Curly," the Warden murmured. "He's an ... unusual case. We've had little luck helping him rehabilitate, I fear, despite the efforts of some of our best. I'll send an orderly to make sure he's returned to his quarters; we should continue the tour so you know your way around the facility."
There was a slow pause. The warden cleared his throat. She looked over with just a hint of blush on those cheekbones.
"Oh, yes. Indeed, Warden d'Champs. Lead the way."
...
The orderly later reported that there had been no problems ensconcing Renfield in his cell; indeed, he'd seemed almost docile as they'd worked their way back; no strange outbursts, no capering about like an oversized monkey. Just murmuring that odd little mantra, and something about 'the mouse leading the way'. The Warden took the news with a somewhat reserved smile; perhaps, at last, they were beginning to get through to him. Renfield was, as he'd noted to Doctor Curly, an unusual case; after so long with a given patient, they could usually determine whether they could, in fact, be helped, or whether their afflictions had affected them too severely, and quiet tending in an environment safe for them and for the world around them was the best option. Renfield defied simple classification though; and the odd fact that his doctors had, one by one, left the practice meant it was much like starting anew every few months. Yet, despite the quite grim reports that had travelled with the man from the asylum he'd been kept in prior, he'd committed no violence here; certainly nothing like the detailed and rather lurid account which had been noted in the record just after his transfer had been approved.
'The poor woman,' he thought to himself, then shook his head. He would have to send an inquiry to learn what the final disposition on that matter was, as much for his own curiosity as for the facility's records, should a public suit arise. Not that he expected it would - it was a shameful incident, and airing it in public would surely stain the woman's good name - alive or otherwise.
...
And in his palace, Renfield sat akimbo, gnarled hands extended in front of him, the restraining jacket neatly folded on the floor in front. His frame swayed slightly from side to side, as if rocked by an unseen breeze. Upon the walls, thousands of fragmented images slowly coalesced and shifted, rainbows springing from jagged edges and leaking quietly as one by one each image was replaced by one of the Doctor. From every angle she was expressed, and from every point and interstice she was examined. Here was something .. unsullied .. but strong. Not yet shaped by the hands of others, except in very broad strokes, with a light touch. Nothing undoable. Incomplete, but not incompleteable. Renfield's excitement grew, and he stuffed his fingers into his mouth and bit hard, feeling the coppery spray, the spikards of pain, forcing himself slowly down. He had to know. Had to be sure. After so many failures, he had to ... test her. Before he would allow himself any hope.
Not death, nor the little death either. Oh, how Master teased him, and how he writhed for it...
But now was not the time for Allegrissimo con fuoco. No, no no, the tempo required a far more stately approach.
Adagio, con brio. Yes. With gentle vigour, he would test her...