tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27720649679827672752024-02-20T13:52:07.275-08:00Angels in Flight.- This is my sanctuary, this is where I keep my soul -Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-61160922617000269552012-01-22T07:18:00.000-08:002012-01-22T07:28:08.345-08:00Kayle and Fate, Part 1<div align="left">Okay so I have been gone for quite some time, and here I am, back in the game. I decided to start up by doing some fanfiction, and I got stuck in this game called League of Legends, it is very dangerous, do not try it, you will get addicted. I then picked two characters and did this little story, it ended up being a lot longer than expected, so there will be a part 2, 3 and so on. Hope you enjoy anyways.</div><div align="left"> Edit: Okay the blog is bugging somehow, so I appologize in advance for the lack of split text. sowwy!</div><div align="left">__________________________________</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><br />She gave a sigh and leaned backwards into her chair; the war was raging but the uncertainty which this battle had brought with it, would not give her rest.Her men were ready at her command, yet they had heard no word from the enemy lines yet, what were they waiting for? She rubbed her temples in anger, and arose from the chair to look at her maps again. "My Lady, we caught a spy" a soldier called from the tent entrance. She growled to the informer, curse it, a spy meant trickery, they were planning on winning by the means of tricks rather than strength. Even when odds were against her, Kayle never planned anything but honourable, just, warfare, and she always hoped for her opponent to do the same; yet never expected it out of sheer courtesy. The spy was a skinny, small man cloaked in black and forest green, to hide him from sentinels; and as he was thrown before her feet, inside her commands tent, Kayle felt almost pity for him; however that feeling vanished as she had to wipe his spit off her cheek. "We are too many, you will never win, you winged abomination! Some might call you an ange-" her commanding officer grabbed him by the hair before he could finish, and pressed a knife at his Adams apple. "still your tongue or loose it" he commanded in a tone that was not to be argued with. Kayle shook her head. "Tell me then, how many dare defy justice?" The spy waited for the knife to be removed before answering, "two hundred men from the Open Fist, a dozen Sunguards on horse and more than five hundred of the Fortune Company" he laughed then but Kayle frowned and the commander cut his throat before he could speak again. She felt uneasy about this information, with so many bought swords, they would not win this battle. She growled underneath her breath and returned to her maps again, her commander gave himself leave to speak "an obvious lie my Lady, they are trying to scare us away with words" she slammed her fists angrily into the table. "I will not let go of this one""I will not let go of this one" she said, determined. "They sell slaves and mock me with those winged corpses on the wall" it was true, the city had been hanging their most beautiful slaves on the outside wall and dressed them in white with swan wings on their back. But her two hundred could never hope to best that many mercenaries without too many casualties for her liking. She sighed and shook her head "send a messenger to those sell swords, maybe they will listen to my cause and decide to choose justice above coin" if any mercenary had ever done that it would have been a most peculiar one of his kind, but Kayle could always hope, or, at least buy one of them with what little gold she had herself.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Hours went by and nothing happened, she saw no sight of her informer, nor received any reply from the sellswords. Her patience grew thin as the stars became visible on the dark sky, and she exited her large tent, to roam the camp. The men were always ready for battle, most of them believed she would grant them eternal life, just by being here, and others worshipped her like a goddess. She found very little pleasure in their devotion, they were simply ignorant, unknowing. It had been years, many years since she had last been with her equals, and these mortal, human beings were so simpleminded sometimes. She found herself quite lonely at times, especially when surrounded by such a vast horde of soldiers, yet she also found comfort in some of it all. In this sea of swords, she found a blind faith in her abilities, that she herself did not even hold, and that made her calmer. It was because of this simple desire to be assured of herself, that she wandered the camp. Men were gathering around fireplaces, and a few of them singing songs, playing dice or cards, drinking heated, spiced wine, or even holding some wrench in their arms.Their force had grown massively doing the march, and from a hundred men, to three hundred in just a fortnight, only due to free-riders and fortune hunters, all here to see the glorious angel in action. And with free-riders came washwomen, cooks and minstrels, they even had one of those human lord's eligible son, hoping to find glory on the battlefield so he could bless his father, and become a rightful heir.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">"Kayle, my Lady, come, sit! I am winning money in your name tonight!"She could not help but smile, the voice was so familiar in her ears, her trusted squire. He was not too bad for a mortal, a sweet lad, without much knowledge of the world, yet a few too much wits between the ears for his own good. He had a tendency to spill his mind before actually consulting his own inner conscience, a tendency that constantly got him into trouble. He waved at her, the lad, and she approached warily; she hardly knew his companions, but they nodded in a greeting. "You are not loosing any coin tonight Lars?"The young lad laughed at her and shook his head. A few days ago he had been polishing her helmet, wearing nothing on his feet, and it was only after many hours of questioning, he had revealed how he had come to loose his footwear."Please, My Lady, sit, sit, you might bring me more luck than simply rolling the dice in your name."He patted at the ground next to him, but she kept standing. Only twice had she sat beside her men, listening to them drinking and talking, and once she had been forced to stab a man, and the last time, one of them had tried to pull off a feather in hopes it would bring luck. It was obvious, even amongst these devoted, honourable soldiers, she had to be vary. She was a superior being, and as she had learned quite quickly, most of these men were greedy as well as those slavers she was to fight, they might attempt to steal her off in the night and sell her in a cage for everyone to view. She was deadly, powerful and graceful, all any warlord would desire in a bought, slaying pet. "I am sorry, Lars but I must decline, Ser Ranould, Ser Marchelle seem to be loosing enough coin to my squire without my blessing upon him"The two metal clad men both grumbled and the left one, and oldest one, gave a complaint about how her squire were simply trying to stall time before his lucky strike ended. </div><div align="left">Voices, noise, she turned, the men at the game turned, it was as if time stood still for just a second, and she could feel the hunger for battle rise in every man around her, was it battle? She could hear steel against steel, the song of blades had begun, and maybe...Kayle took wing, rising high above the camp, attempting to spot what was going on. The men at the gambling table had all taken arms, and she could see most of the soldiers doing the same. Those not in armour, were quick to retreat to their tents in order to re-equip themselves, and the rest seemed to advance as if in slow motion towards the commotion. Everything happened at once, men running towards the loud clanging, her commander running towards her tent, her squire as well, poor Lars, with his hands and pockets filled with coin he desperately tried not to drop. Some of the free-riders were at the spot the same time she was, yet what she found was must, interesting. Three of her sentries were dead, and in the middle of it all stood a man, a shade of a figure, yet too tall, too broad around the shoulders to be a woman. He was wearing a long trench-cloak, studded it seemed, and a wide hat, to take most of the rain. He had no weapons, yet he had easily unarmed her sentries and killed them. The men around her drew arms, but she raised her hand and with a voice, stern and imposing, she commanded "Stop, let him speak." Only one of the free-riders dared speak up, but the rest did as told without question."But my lady, he killed three of our men..." She frowned upon this and shook her head. "Should he wish to kill me, he would not be so exposed, this man took the lives of three sentries, they were trained not to be seen and he found and killed them, I suspect that should he want to kill you Ser Arthur, he could have done so easily." The man known as Arthur kept quiet, defeated as he sheeted his sword. "Stranger, what brings you here?" </div><div align="left">The man dropped a bag in front of her.</div><div align="left">"I bring an offering, to the Lady glad in iron, it is not often I see a woman of your... stature." </div><div align="left">His flattery or mockery made her frown, yet she stepped closer to inspect the bag. </div><div align="left">"What is this?" Uncertain, Kayle poked the bag with her sword, she was not familiar with bloody bags delivered in the mist of night. As she cut open the robes however, a bloody, dark-haired, fair-skinned head rolled out. "What is this!" She gasped, anger flared inside of her; the free-riders drew steel again as her sword flared, flames illuminated them, and she could now see this stranger's face. He was comely, dark haired, with eyes that seemed like they could talk her into anything, no matter what he would ask. "I give you, what you desire most Oh Great Goddess from the skies." He flashed a smirk which could not be mistaken, this man was a fox, untrustworthy, yet he felt no danger surrounded. She shifted her weight to the other leg, feeling misplaced somehow; usually things came uncomplicated to her, life was simple, there was simply truth and false, good and evil, day and night, herself and Morgana... She had not given her sister much thought for a while, and somehow the name had invaded her thoughts just then. Kayle blinked once, and returned her focus instantly. "Why would I want heads as offering, and I am no Goddess." the man seemed honestly disappointed."But I have heard so much of you recently, they say you are seven feet tall, and shoot balls of fire from your eyes..." he grinned casually. "Well I guess killing your greatest obstacle was not much of a gift then, I will come back to pay homage when I come up with a greater scheme.""Wai- who are these men?!" The man in the hat pulled in the linen and two heads rolled into the grass; his gloved finger pointed at the first head."That would be Rian Sun, leader of the Sunguards." His finger shifted to the second head."And that would be Ser Aeron Heimlord, commanding officer of the Fortune Company." She gasped, surprise was written all over her face, and it seemed contagious somehow."You- why did you do this?" The man shrugged, then turned his back on her."I simply wished to see this wonder, well I hear you have a city to sack, so please, let me not stand in your way." he pulled a card from his jacket, and tossed it at her, and with that he disappeared. It felt like hours had gone, when she found her way back to her tent. Her commander was looking at the maps, and Lars was polishing her breastplate where the card had left a small dent. The queen of hearts was lying on the table, she had felt a strange desire to keep it. Her mind was wandering, as she went trough the details of this night's events; it was all so confusing, all so random. She never believed in luck, everything had to do with careful planning, yet she did not plan for this to happen; who would ever do something so haphazard just for their own amusement? Kayle waved at hand at her commander. "Leave me, we will talk this over tomorrow." He protested at first, but the look in her eyes, made him reconsider and simply nod. Lars got up instantly as well. Night came and went, and Kayle could still not find any sense in it all. Sitting on her own, in her chair, twirling the queen of hearts between her index finger and thumb, thinking of the cloaked, strange man who somehow decided to help her without any hopes of gaining anything for himself. Such a rightious, strange man, such a self-sacrificing, powerful, strong... her mind drifted off and she found sleep easily.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Morning had come and passed, before Kayle woke most abruptly in her chair. Lars was polishing her shoes while she had been a sleep, and obviously the boy had done his best not to wake her; a plan that would have succeeded had it not been for a sudden, loud rumbling sound outside. The day had been sunny till this point, and the sudden bad weather that came without warning, had awoken her from her slumber. She jumped from the wooden chair, kicking Lars right in the face, poor lad, and rushed outside to see what was to come.The sky had opened on top of them, it seemed, and rain water poured down like oceans had been hidden within those innocent white clouds. Lightning split the horizon in two, and men ran towards their tent. Winds blew up, storm gathered, some of the soldiers ran around their tents, securing the lines with wooden nails and hammer. She could see a tent carried up into the air, twirling while it's owners tried to pull it down without any luck. Chaos had hit her camp, like boiling an anthill, everyone rushed to any form of salvation, and a great crowd of free-riders and their servants came towards the large command-tent. "Do something oh Goddess!" Some cried out, others threw themselves at their feet. "Please, you must have angered the gods!" others screamed. Her people grabbing at her feet, her armour, pulling at her.She backed away, horrified. Lightening stuck down behind the growing horde of pleading servants, struck down into a tent that burst into flames immediately. She could see a fire in the other end of the camp as well. Even the heavy rain would not choke the flames. People became more desperate, the horde moving towards her, asking, begging, then, she felt as if it was all still a dream, unreal, when one of the washing-women pointed at her and shouted "The gods need to be satisfied, they will strike us down if we do not sacrifice this one!" Kayle felt fear, unfamiliar, unwelcome, crawling under her skin. The mob started shouting at her, and she kept backing towards the other end of the tent."She did wrong to ask for justice, you all saw how her demonic assassin killed those men yesterday. She is no angel, she is cruel!" "A snake, a weasel!" Others joined in, and now it all picked up speed. The horde started running towards her like one, giant mass, and she leaped across the table, threw herself at the cloth wall and cut an exit with her dagger. The mob was after her, rain whipped at her face, she heard the constant, loud fizzle and aftershock as lightning struck around her. Her wings tried to fly, but the rain pulled her down again. All she could do was run, run away from her camp, run to safety. The marsh became forest, and she fell in between the trees. Some of her men were still after her, shouting that she should give herself in, for the greater good, to appease the gods. But Kayle did not listen. Instead she found a hiding place between a downward slope and a fallen tree. Here she crept in. Her eyes were red with tears, anger, frustration. Why would this happen to her now? In her hour of glory. It all seemed so surreal, how her army had turned on her that instant, as if she was the enemy. </div><div align="left">She had nothing to do with the assassin of those mercenaries, she had even refused their heads as gifts; of course secretly, she had admired the stranger who had brought them to her, she had even been dreaming of working with a man like him, it made things a lot less complicated, yet now she felt cheated by his actions, her victory stolen from her by this mysterious stranger in his long coat, with his smooth features and dark hair. Kayle smashed her fist against the wood, then cried in pain as she felt her fragile fingers against the rough surface. She had forgotten her gloves at the camp, as well as her sword. Her sword! She had to go retrieve it, or it would be the end of her she knew, how could an angel call judgement upon anyone without her flaming sword? The rain stopped as sudden as it had come, and she could hear birds chipping in the trees. And dogs. Dogs barking in the nearby area. Kayle listened for a while before realizing that the sound came closer. They had brought dogs to find her, how pathetic. She would not be sniffed out by some dog in a collar.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Slowly she got up to her feet, looking at her surroundings. It was a small, open pond in front of her, and the water seemed to run down from a tiny stream. It was somewhat peaceful, and she wished she could stay. The sound of dogs and men came closer behind her. She could take wing and fly, but she knew they would attempt to shoot her down, and she did not wish to be spotted, not yet. She had to get her sword first.Slowly, she walked into the water. Would it be possible for dogs to smell her from the pond? She thought not, so she moved across, to the other side, and then trough the little stream. The water went no further than to her ankles, and the mud easily slipped her boot.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-39041536659827296492010-03-01T03:27:00.000-08:002010-03-01T03:29:29.927-08:00Dawn - Happy ending?<div align="center">Working on the ending of most of my characters, trying to close a chapter in their lives. I need new characters, new life. New hope. </div><div align="center">Anywho, this is what will at some point happen to Vian D'Unian.</div><div align="center">I hope you like it. I don't, but I did enjoy writing it.</div><div align="center">_________________________________</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffff66;">Giving in and giving up.</span></div><br /><br /><br />The sun lazily crept over the hilltops. It was one of those days where the light moves a bit slower than usual, where the golden shimmer of dawn is a bit early on its travel and can therefore take its time. The sky had been kissed a purple color by the rising morning star, and the song of awaking birds echoed trough the small valley between the hills. The light, morning dawn, made crystals sparkle across the surface of the valley river. The waterfalls weren't as noisy, and the trees swayed peacefully in the air.<br />The low hill was the best spot to watch the sun rise, to watch the world come to live. Wild, white flowers stood, gently rocking in the wind upon that hill, yawning and stretching like flowers do, silently not to break the magic of the morning mist.<br /><br />His boots were made from leather and too warm for this type of weather, unless he felt something other than the wind's gentle breeze. He was wearing skin clothes from arctic wolves, a comfort against a snowstorm but it made him stand out doing summer days like this one. His gaunt-like figure was covered in layers of clothes underneath the coats, and it made him seem comical and strange. His white hair got caught by the wind and blew into his face. His old, scared face, yellow skin, the trace of ancient knowledge, too much for him to bare, too little for him to feel satisfied. His lips were broken and dry, they hadn't tasted water for ages. He supported himself by a walking staff, woodwork as ancient as him. He traced down the runes with a rough, dry finger, a finger, a hand that had done too much hard work for a man his shape. The skin like studded leather, without much feel to it any longer.<br />He slowly brushed some of the air away from his grey, dull eyes, and studied the valley, then the sun rise. Lastly, he eyed the only building in the valley. A small, white house with a roof made of straw and a small chimney where smoke calmly rose. They were up and about already.<br />Slowly, as if the weight of the entire world was upon his shoulders and he had to use all his strength to do this move, he lifted his left foot, placed it in front of the right, then the right and placed it in front of the left, and so began his stride down the hill and into the valley.<br /><br />It had been a decade since the valley had last had uninvited guests. Most of the world kept turning without paying attention to this small sanctuary. Everything was untouched, not harmed by human hands. The little river side, the wild apple trees, the bushes of berries, the wild horses running around. The only thing that indicated any form of interference was the small house.<br />The visitor crossed fields of tall grass and wild flowers. He grimly remembered his years there, and as he turned his head, he heard the laughter of a young woman and his heart pounded in his chest. He turned, only to see empty sky.<br /><br />The house came closer, or maybe he came closer to the house, he wasn't certain. It had seemed so calm and peaceful from afar, but now, as he got closer, it seemed as if the structure would devour him and keep him a prison here. He felt the urge to turn and run, his old bones screamed, begged it of him. But he kept walking ahead.<br /><br />His hands whitened lightly as he took a grip around his staff. He knew what he had to do. He stopped close to the building, a sudden move, as response to a sudden sound. The door opened, he could hear a calm female voice from inside, asking someone to fetch water from the river. A small shape danced out the door, playing as she tiptoed towards the waterside. She wasn't old, maybe past her first ten summers. Her hair was white as the snow that decorates the top of mountains, and she was dressed in a simple dress that seemed yellow in comparison to the hair. Her skin was a dark brown color, and she ran on bare feet. The visitor kept standing on his spot, studying the girl run off. He didn't say a word, he didn't move, he just stood there, starring.<br />A moment later an adult woman came out of the door as well, looking after the girl and shaking her head with a light laughter. She emptied a bucket by the side of the house, and stood up straight, enjoying the light breeze trough her white hair. Her ravenblack skin glistened in the light of the first sun that was still creeping its way over the hilltops. The woman laughed and waved as she seemed to spot something or someone approach her home from the opposite direction of the still unknown visitor. A large, brown bear walked towards her, and as it came close, it went up standing on two legs, shaking off the fur of what changed to a human body, and the man wrapped his arms around her small waist, then kissed her forehead and looked down at her. He was muscular, youthful and undressed, not that she seemed to mind. His brown hair reached down to the small of his back, and his skin was a tanned, light brown color. He seemed touched by time and war, but not harmed or crippled, unlike the hidden visitor, he seemed healthy.<br />She took his hand, and they walked inside again, leaving the old man to his own. They didn't even pay attention to him, to them, he did not exist any longer.<br />He removed the hood resting over his white hair, and dropped the staff to the ground. His arms moved in the air and he mumbled words in an old, forgotten, forbidden language. Fire erupt from his sleeves, running up his arms, surrounding his shape, caressing his wrinkled face. He forced the fire into the ground, shaped it in his mind, made it charge towards the little home. But something broke him off. He could hear singing coming from the lake.<br />His grey eyes turned, the girl was on her way home. She could have been his.<br />He stopped, choked the magic before it could do any harm, and studied her dance and sing with the little bucket of water between her two hands. A boy ran out from the house to meet her and help her carry the bucket.<br />The visitor studied them, then turned and left the way he came, the only thing indicating that he had ever been there was a small, burned spot in the grass where flowers never seemed to grow again.<br />He made it home.<br />He dropped himself into his old chair.<br />And decided that no matter how much power he would get, he had lost.<br />Lost himself.<br />Lost her.<br />And he died that night, sitting in his chair.<br />Not by the hand of Juan D'unian<br />Not from a vengeful apprentice<br />But because he had given up.<br />And so it came to pass,<br />that Vian D'unian gave up immortality.<br /><br /><br />Copyrighted by Cecilie Hornstrup Nemeth, DK ©Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-47216288063417483982009-12-26T13:46:00.001-08:002009-12-26T13:59:14.072-08:00Problem with childrenNothing much to say right now, except... yea, it's a bit out of context and random.. heh. I am going to finish it at some point by the way, as my idea is to actually write something a bit longer with a bit more of plot development in it. Hope you enjoy *Smile*<br /><br />_________________________________________________<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;">Kids and their Games</span><br /><br />Juan frowned and turned his back at her. She reached out and placed her silk soft, tiny hand upon his left, bare shoulder. He didn’t move and she leaned in close, pressing her perky bosom against his back as she rested her head upon his shoulder. “It is fine, I know what you mean love.” He smirked and got up standing, leaving her on the bed. She studied his body in the moonlight. Even though he was agile and handsome, there was something about his body that made him seem unattractive. She couldn’t quite put it, maybe it was all the scars, maybe it was the almost unnatural slenderness. He was perfect shaped, not too muscular, not too fat. As gods shaped his kin, his eyes were brown and kind and his hair, even though it was dark in the lack of light, seemed so warm and soft. She hadn’t seen him like this before, and maybe that was what disturbed her.<br /><br />The pirate put on his pants; he turned to look over his shoulder for a second, a hint of sadness perhaps running across his face as he nodded at her. “You know your way out.” She got up; he didn’t even know her name. It wasn’t typical for him to sleep with the same girl more than once, and even though he’d made the mistake of taking her in more than once, he still hadn’t bothered learning her name.<br /><br />He left his cabin without further notice and entered the hallways. Dorian was already up and about, for his door was open as well as Landon’s. He had hoped to be the first one up. To enjoy the sun rise on his own, but that usually wasn’t the case. He couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t look at that girl again, that creature who’d stolen his precious time, and for a moment of time, a split second, stolen his love, and even though he had a tendency of quickly falling in love with girls, and just as quickly dismiss the emotion when he was done with them, it pained him every time to do so.<br /><br />The deck was misty and wet, like any other morning, the Lady of Mists welcomed him with her familiarity that he liked to take in and study. Even though the ship had been his home for several decades now, and even though he was doomed to stay on it for eternity, he still saw the ship as a sanctuary rather than a cage. He loved every inch of it, every tiny detail, the scent of the wet wood, and the touch and feel of the cool wind. “You’re up?” Dorian’s voice was easily recognizable for Juan. Many would not be able to tell the difference between Dorian and his twin in the mist, nor pick their voices apart, but Juan knew Dorian better than most, and he smirked to himself. “You here to torment me further?” Dorian shook his head and took one step so that they would stand shoulder to shoulder, as equals, studying the water before them. “You do that pretty well yourself.” Juan D’unian nodded lightly and studied the full moon upon the sky, hanging like the envious lover, constantly observing the earth below her to make sure everything is in order. A wolf howled nearby and Juan knew already what wolf that was. Their crew was an interesting bunch, and their Captain had a tendency of disappearing every time they made it to shore, especially if a full moon was about. Dorian kept quiet, studying Juan’s features in the moonlight. Juan returned the gesture by speaking no word, and allowed silence to sweep them in and force their minds to travel someplace else, anywhere else.<br /><br />“I am off.” She said, her voice was high pinched and it was easy to hear tears in it. Dorian sighed and shook his head at Juan. “You are not going to help her off at least?” Juan turned around and looked at the girl for a second, then walked towards the little stairway leading under deck. “You can do that, if you care so much for her.” Dorian frowned. “And where are you going?” “I need more sleep; girl’s been keeping me up.” Dorian laughed to himself and went towards the young girl, telling her way back to the town and giving her a few coins so she could repair her clothes and get herself some food.<br /><br />Juan dumped himself into his bed, looking at the ceiling for some time, attempting to knock the thoughts out of his head. His sheets smelled like her perfume, and something… a bit more passionate. There were blood on them as well; he had been rough to her, just like she liked it. A sound of utter depression escaped him and he closed his eyes, dreaming about what really bothered him.<br />She came clear to him easily in his mind, her beautiful face, her wolfish grin, and the glimpse in her eye, as if she is going to steal every coin he has after having her way with him. He loved every bit of her, and he would even give up his life on the Lady of Mists if it meant spending his life with his mysterious lover. Like the girl from before, he did not know his dream girl’s name. He had spent many nights with her, but didn’t remember. And silly as he was, he’d even bought her something last they had been at a large market.<br /><br />He dreamed himself away with her, and was first awakened when someone bumped down next to him in the bed. Lazily Juan opened one eye, looking at Dorian’s charming brown eyes, exotic face yet pale skin. The dead friend of his smirked with his large, bloody fangs and ran a finger down Juan’s chest. “So going to stay in bed all evening? And if so, am I to join?” Juan laughed and grabbed Dorian’s adventurous finger. “you’ve eaten a human I see…” “How did you know?” “You always get like this when you feast.” Dorian rolled his eyes, clearly an expression of frustration. “You are by far the most boring lover I’d ever had. What’s with you Ju-ju?” “You know I hate that name.” “Your brother calls you Ju-Ju?” “Oh yes, and I have the most amazing relationship with my brother and I would never ever harm him.” “True true, point taken… So, are you going to move soon?” “Are we sailing yet?” “Oh no, Landon and I figured you might want to catch a drink with us downtown?” “And what if I run into her?” “What her?” “The girl from before you twit!” “Oh…” Dorian smirked and leaped on top of Juan, pressing his nose against his lovers, whispering against his lips “I ate her.” Then he rolled off the bed before Juan could smack him one. “YOU did WHAT?” Dorian was quick on his feet and at the door before Juan was even up from the bed. “I ate her, figured you didn’t want her no more anyways!” “W—Wait?” Dorian stopped and arched a dark eyebrow “Yes?” “Haven’t your father forbidden the feasting on people?” Dorian shrugged. “Dad’s caught up in his own web right now, tangling like a little fly.” “Oh?” Juan crossed his arms across his chest. “And what would the job be then?” “What job?” “The one he is going to ask us to do for him sooner or later…” Dorian shrugged. “Nothing much… He just wants the kids.” Juan went to his cabinet and found a brown liquor bottle. He opened it and drank from it. “The kids?” Dorian nodded. “You know, Lance’s kids.” “So we are to steal them from Anthalas and Logan?” Dorian nodded. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I heard Logan is out hunting this month, and Anthalas is trick able.” Juan took another big swallow from the bottle and wiped his mouth with his left hand. “So you want me in?” Dorian nodded again “Anthalas and Vian used to be old friends, maybe you can use that to your advantage…” Juan frowned “You forget something.” “Oh yes, your brother and his former friends are usually not… exactly neutral neither.” Juan flashed a cruel smile “It’s a family tradition to turn friends into sworn enemies.” Dorian turned to leave. “Be at deck in ten.” “Yea yea. “ “Oh and Juan?” Dorian stood in the door for a second or two, then finished his sentence. “We have guests, so get dressed will you?” and by those words, left the cabin.<br /><br />Juan was on deck a few minutes later, dressed as proper as would be expected from Juan. He wasn’t one from wearing clothes generally, but he did have the decency to put on a shirt to go with the pants. A pair of young, female eyes studied him as he came up, and he met them without much word. A group of four people, one of them being a darkskinned woman, standing next to the first one he had spotted. She was ravenblack with white hair, similar to the moon worshipping of his own kin. He knew her already and didn’t like the sight of her one bit. She was his brother’s old… well girlfriend was the best term he could come up with, and he knew that if she was about, it meant trouble for either him or Vian. Either was trouble he didn’t particularly like. She bowed her head, and greeted him, but he did not return the gesture and instead studied the people that accompanied her. Two magicians, one which seemed weaker than the other, like magicians had a tendency of doing. A large man, probably a savage from the old lands, seemed to be her guardian, and the woman whose eyes he met first, and whom he could not help himself but study, was quite fairskinned and dressed in what seemed like a light armor. Dorian nodded at Juan. “We are escorting Mirren and her companions, as well as taking my father’s little pet here on board.” The fair skinned girl snarled at Dorian, clearly he had been teasing her since her arrival and her fangs shown quickly indicated that she did not enjoy his smart mouth quite as much as Juan had a tendency of doing. “She’s his newest love?” Juan asked instead, tossing his usual, charming yet somewhat mysterious, cocky smirk into the conversation. Dorian shook his head. “If only, at least she’s a blast. This one’s some new girl of his, joined from th-“ “Is there a point to all this?” The girl interrupted and Dorian kept quiet. “No no, let’s just get going. Mirren and her companions will be dropped off at their destination on the way, and, what was your name again? Let’s call her Chuchu, like a little doggie? Yea, Chuchu, I like that name.” She opened her mouth to speak but something kept her from doing so, maybe the fact that Dorian wasn’t going to listen to her anyways, as he just kept talking nonsense while walking down the stairs to show them to their respectable rooms.<br /><br /><br />Copyrighted by Cecilie Hornstrup Nemeth, DK ©</div>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-10416077866772916112009-11-14T13:55:00.000-08:002009-11-14T14:03:48.047-08:00The Past<div align="center">This is the story of Vian and Juan, their past, when they were very young. I hope you enjoy it, and don't cry too much...<br />In a world of innocence </div><div align="center">__________________________________<br /><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#33ccff;">don't let go</span></strong><br /><br />”Mom’s ill.” the young boy shook his head, scratching his dirty cheek. “I know, but don’t think about it, she’ll get well soon.” The first boy nodded to his older brother, then dried his nose. It was cold outside, snow fell from the sky, and their fire had died out days ago. They were both covered in blankets and all the clothes they could find to keep out the cold. The oldest boy looked towards the bedroom door again. Their mother was in there, coughing, he could hear her. “We have to get some food.” He said slowly, then turned to look at his brother again before asking “Will you go with me to the village?” the younger boy shook his head “What about mom?” his brother nodded “You stay here then, and take care of her?” “But Vian…” “No buts, I am leaving now, we need food.” Vian, twenty years old, studied his younger brother for a few moments. He then shook his head again. “I need your help Juan.” The younger brother bit down on his thumb, he hadn’t quite stopped sucking on it yet, and he still slept in their mother’s bed. “I’ll go then…” he answered after a few seconds of silence. Vian nodded and pulled down his hat to cover his ears, then did the same to Juan’s.<br /></div>They went out, into the wet and cold of winter snow, the tyranny of the wind, the brutality of nature’s wrath. “Vian, don’t let go.” Juan said, holding his brother’s hand. Vian gave his hand a slight squeeze, dragging him through. “I never will.”<br /><br />The storm had gotten worse, and the two brothers couldn’t tell what was in front of them no more. Juan tripped and slipped out of Vian’s hand. He curled together in the snow, shaking his head “I don’t wanna go.” He cried, sucking on his thumb, tears rolling down those soft cheeks. “Come on Juan, come on!” Vian yelled at him and pulled him up standing. They took ten more steps before Juan fell again, this time with his face first into the snow. He started crying loudly and screamed in frustration. Vian hugged him close, sitting down next to him, rocking him in his arms. “Don’t let go Juan.” He said, but Juan just kept crying.<br /><br />They slept in a small cavern nearby, trying to keep each other warm by lying close. Vian held around Juan and protected him, and Juan was first to fall asleep. As they woke that morning they were even hungrier, and the storm had become even worse.<br />The village had been empty but at least the storm had died out. Their way home was a lot easier, but they returned home empty handed, to a house with a mother who’d forgotten them. “Don’t ever let go.” Vian said to his kid brother, and then vanished.<br /><br /><br />Juan opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling. For a moment he felt like screaming, screaming in frustration, but he kept his head cool. His entire body was sweaty and warm, and he pushed off the girl lying up against him before crawling out of bed. He picked up his pants, strapped the belt in and walked on deck. Here he studied the moons, wondering if he had ever let go.<br /><br /><br />In his giant bed Vian laid, studying the ceiling, thoughtful. He was saddened by a stunning dream, and he felt the sting to his heart as he looked upon his hand. Six hundred years had passed since they’d found their mother lying in bed, dead. He got up from his bed, leaned against the wall and looked out his window, studying the moons, wondering why he’d ever stopped holding on.<br /><br /><br />Copyrighted by Cecilie Hornstrup Nemeth, DK ©Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-39969114832514994852009-11-10T04:25:00.000-08:002009-11-10T04:31:16.607-08:00Guest Starring!Hello there. I have fallen in love with something Helene wrote to me. I just love her language and have decided to post it here. It is personal and might not make much sense to outsiders, but please, dive into her language and enjoy her descriptional little lovescene.<br /><br />________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;"><strong>Early morning</strong></span><br /><br />The early morning sunlight streamed carefully through the open window, a slight wind made the see-through-silk curtains wave like a breeze through a corn field. And there on the round bed in the middle of the room laid a woman. The sun blessed bare skin of her pale back, uncovered by the silk bed sheets. Her hair flung over the pillows like wild fire through a dry forest.<br />He could tell that she was sleeping, for the sound of her calm breath. He smiled to himself as he remembered how she’d gotten here. He’d been holding her, not wanting to let go, so he picked her up with ease, as she was so tiny and light. He had placed a finger on her crimson lips when she was about to ask what he was doing, and she’d kept quiet. He had carried her all the way back to his private chambers, only to let her down where she now slept so calmly. Her eyes had followed him closely as he’d turned his back at her, to free himself from his armor, and placed it away.<br /><br />He sighed and frowned a bit, as he remembered having had to lay bounds on himself, bound so that he’d not just forcefully take her right then and there. Instead he’d crawled up to her and glanced into her green-purple eyes for a long while before kissing her softly on the cheeks, her for-head and at last her crimson lips. He was struggling with his self-control as she kissed him back. He knew very well that this was not some pre-learned reaction, but her instincts reacting. Same instincts that woke curiosity in her eyes as he very tenderly and slowly had begun untying the lace on her dress. Surprisingly natural her fingers had found their way to caress his arms as he kept untying, her touch sending a trembling fire going under his skin. The same fire he could sense under hers as his fingers touched her bare skin for the first time.<br /><br />He sighed and turned to face the window. He could not stand looking at her, know that the fire would must certainly rise again. Knowing that he would have to leave her again. Leave her and maybe never see her again. He sighed and locked his gaze on a sunlight rose standing alone on the field outside his window, letting all his thoughts fly away like the birds in the sky above it.<br />She stretched slowly, and rose herself to her elbows with a silent yawn. Then when her thoughts wandered to the part night blood rose to her cheeks and she blushed, the tingly feeling spread throughout her tiny little body. She glanced around only to be blinded by the bright morning sunlight, shining at her from the window, catching glance at him firm figure beside it. His back turned towards her. He'd only bothered to wrap a silk sheet around his waist, leaving the rest of his strong features exposed. She’d not dreamt, she’d not been tricked be her own lacking memory. She reached for the sheet, and wrapped it lightly around her as she sat up, blinking tiredly like a little child denying it was still sleepy. She could not deny that she hadn’t slept this well in a very long time. No nightmare, no other magister having to calm her in the middle of the night. Just him, he’d tugged her in, and it was like his strong arms had shielded her from the nightmares that kept coming back. She smiled still slightly blushed. Then she carefully dropped off the bed and got to her feet, slowly approaching him, not stopping before she stood right behind him. He closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of her body behind him. Then he took a deep breath and turned around, carefully placing his arms around her, and she rested her cheek on his chest.<br /><br />How could he have looked away? There it was like ignited by her glance as she looked up at him; the fiery feeling trembling through him again. He was about to say he had to leave, when she placed a finger on his lips silencing him, like he’d done to her the night before. His lips burned, and he kissed her finger, her hand, her arm, her neck. He didn’t want to stop, he couldn’t. And he knew she’d not stop him.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span>Copyrighted by Helene Kiilerich Frederiksen, DK ©Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-61109665812443166622009-10-25T11:10:00.000-07:002009-10-25T11:15:51.458-07:00Vampire stories<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I've been gone for a while, but life sometimes takes time off my hands. Now here's a vampire character I have been working on.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Enjoy</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Oh before we start</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Here's some facts about the character</span></div><div align="center">Age by embrace – 23 years old<br />Immortal life – 14 years<br />Mortal name – Adéle DeChanú<br />Known as – Little Alice<br />Clan – Malkavian<br />Embraced by – Unknown<br />Mental Condition – “stable”<br /> Origin – French, (Born in Paris)<br />Haven – Own apartment<br />Strongest Discipline – Dementation<br />Nature – Monster<br />Quote – <br />“Oh, you'll probably go to heaven<br />Please don't hang your head and cry”</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">________________________________</span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Alice in wonderland</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br />Tip toe down the hall; make sure not to wake him. He’s right there, behind the curtain, and he’ll scream if you wake him. Oh yes. Good thing you hid him from the world, because even though you forced him into the mirror, he’s still there, able to hurt you, oh yes. And how did you become like this? You don’t remember do you? You remember dying? Oh it all comes back now, the illness. You need your medication, or your lungs will collapse again. That is why you are up early tonight. You have to make it to the drugstore, get your pills before they close.<br />You tip toe out the door, bare feet in the rain. It will make you even more ill, but you’re afraid to get inside again. Oh yes, you’re afraid to wake him up too early. He’ll get mad, the man in the mirror. Maybe you should break it? Break the mirror? Sounds dangerous, he might come out again then, be free to roam your world.<br />The drug store is still open, luckily. You remember to place your hat correctly, the Indian will not sell anything to you if your hat is wrong, you know that don’t you? The pills are there, on the third shelve, a big, white glass with a red pictu- wait. You stop, turn and look at the other shelve. Pills, pretty, blue pills. “Used to treat erectile dysfunction in men” it says. Maybe you need it? You’re not sure, it might help. You take it anyways, and grab the pills for your lungs. Antibiotics as well, they might come in handy later.<br />The Indian is looking at you behind the counter again. He’s got that stare in his eyes, and you smile and bow elegantly. He laughs a bit, and nods with his head. His mouth opens, he is going to talk. You can see his teeth move, and smell his breath. He’s going to infect you if you get closer, you know it. Maybe he send you the powder? Oh yes! The powder! You nod at his comment, not sure about what he said, hands the boxes and glasses of pills over, then pays, takes the bag, and run out into the rain. You have to get to the airport quickly, the man down there might know about the powder.<br />You feel a sting to your heart. Your lungs are in pain, and you take a few pills. Works every time, and you keep running, chewing on the pills. They taste nice tonight.<br />And it’s out there in the rain that it all comes back to you, after stuffing your face with pills. You’re actually dead. Pills won’t help the pain, won’t help the sorrow. The Cancer is spreading but it won’t cure you, because you’re dead already, so you get more ill, but nothing changes. You’re so dead you can’t even grow a beard, and I know, you’ve always wanted a beard. Yea, look into the rain water, see our reflection. Girls can’t grow beards after all.<br />I’ll leave you to it, you dead, miserable being, but don’t create a spectacle.<br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">A night in wonderland<br /><br /></span></strong>So now I’m all alone, and what am I supposed to do? My mind’s empty you see, all empty now that the babbling self is gone. Know what me told me to do? Chill?! As if I ein’t already? I mean, I am dead, I am permanently chilled. And I mean, what kind of way was that to go anyways? I died in a freakin car crash, on my wedding day, we’d been married for less than an hour, and BOOM, car crashes. There I am, lying on my stomach, thinking “It can’t get any worse now” and this bloke, whom I’ve seen like, a million times, at my sessions and things, he shows up, and goes “Let me take you down the rabbit hole.” I told him to quit his pickup lines and call the paramedics, right that second! And you know what he did? He patted my head, and told me I was dead already. Can you believe that? Dead? Me? Brought me back from the darkness, that idiot. I didn’t even feel a thing though. I mean, I’ve met a few of my kin, all talking about the pain, and the feeling of death. All I saw was darkness. Pfft, them being scared of death, being scared of the pain, of the fire, of the sun. They don’t know jack shit, you see, the only real fear out there, is the darkness.<br />But let’s go back to how I met Rick, whom I married and died with. Let’s start with that? Or maybe something different, like, the bloke that decided to…embrace? Me? Well, let’s go back to my parents in France, the ballet, the beauty, my beauty. The pills, the cancer, the sickness. Oh my beauty, torn by the sickness. I couldn’t dance no more. It all comes back to me now, I couldn’t dance because I got ill, and I married Rick because he loved my inner beauty. Oh yea. And there were this stalker, whom sends me all those letters. And he used to show up at all my shows, that man, who also told me I was dead that night, in the car crash. Who led me into the darkness.<br />Maybe it was panic, stress, or maybe it wa- That smell? I ein’t got time for more talking, you see, I got things to do. I smell her, she’s running, she’s in panic, someone’s hunting her. There’s another of my kin nearby. I can feel him, smell his dead corpse. He’s already soaked in blood? He’s been hunting more than once. Well then. I hear her scream, and in a flash I am there, watching this dark man, in a dark cloak, with a large iron pipe, standing before his prey. He hasn’t eaten her yet, he keeps talking, talking so loud, about how he’s going to rape her first, then beat her up, and then, he might give her the merciful death. I can’t let him do that. I scream out “Hey you!” he turns, stares at me, as if he knows me, and for a second, I fear my powers not working. But then he screams, he screams in fear and terror and backs against the wall, I take a step closer to him, and he grabs his head, digging his nails into the flesh, and screams. I’ve only showed him what a monster he truly is, and shown him what a comfort it must be, knowing that no one will ever love him, no one will ever care for him, not even his kindred, not even his friends and family. I show him colors, and then I step into his nightmare and hand over the mirror, so he can look at his own reflection being eaten by creatures of darkness and chaos. Those creatures I love myself, they always tug me in at night. I show him his dem- I stop tormenting him as I hear her screams. She runs towards the road from the small alley, across the road, towards the city. I can’t stop her. She’s so terrified. My love, I loved her, for a split second I felt my body love her, crave for her attention. I remove my focus from the vampire, and as fear and terror strikes my heart, I watch her shadow slammed against a truck. There’s nothing of her left, she’s dead.<br />I stand there, as her blood is now on my hands, I killed her, and I am not sure I am proud of it. Her lifespan was over before I touched her, I gave her seconds more to live, but I could have given her wonders instead of fears.<br />There are people on the road, pointing the direction of where I am standing, but I am still in the shadows, they won’t see me from that far. And that’s when I feel it. SLAM against my face. The steel smashes me around, and I fall. Feel the pain. The man who’s lunch I stole. I had forgotten him a second. But how I love the pain. It’s fresh and new. He lifts me up and shakes me. A smile upon my face, and he seems to be scared of it. But don’t stop now, Please? He tosses me away and picks up the pipe again. “What are you?” he screams in anger, I’ve shown him his true monster, and even though I lost my focus, he won’t forget it. He won’t forget what I almost made him do, go into the magical fear that would never stop until he was far away. “You! Monster!” he screams and slams the pipe against my face. I realize now, he’s new. He’s a brand new kindred, look at him. And looking closer I notice the bloodstains down his shirt are not new. He’s been feeding for some time now. “Monster?” I ask, and get up standing. He cracked my skull I think, it hurts like hell, the world is so pretty like this. “I am down the rabbit hole, the entity of reality, the modern reality that is, I mean, I ein’t the entity of the seventh hundred’s of queen what’s her face? I’m the entity of now, and you’ve made it. You’ve made it and I am proud of you!” He stops, looks at me without a clue of what is going on. “What are you?!” he screams again, he’s desperate to know. I should have known earlier how young he was, I could have used that against him instead of showing him the world as it really is. “You’re the lie, I’m the truth. Come with me Lie, I’ll buy you coffee” he doesn’t know what to do and I just place my hat back upon my head, almost hiding the wound he’s made. It’ll heal sooner or later, and I like the feel of it, the flesh is so, mortal.<br />We sit down, drink coffee and he keeps looking at me. I ask him if I got a bug on my face. I probably do, one big one too. He shakes his head “Are you… one of my kin?” He asks and I shake my head. “no no, you’re the Lie, I’m the Truth, don’t you see? Call me Alice, I made it down the rabbit hole, and came out on the other side. I can show you the way Lie? So you can see the truth as well?” He laughs all of a sudden “Are you going to ask me to take a blue or red pill?” “When did you die?” I ask instead, people are looking at us now inside the diner, but they just think I’m nuts, they always do. They should know better. One day I’ll scream at their faces, show them ALL the face of madness that is behind the mirror. Suddenly I hear it from the radio, news about a car crash, maybe they are going to find my friend soon. He looks nervous. And I understand why. He killed her, he did. And she was famous too? Apparently so. Killing famous people. The Kindred won’t like that. I know they won’t. I’ve been told the rules by the mirror.<br />When I leave the coffee place it’s for the last time. I need to find a new place to eat. At least I destroyed all the tapes, so nothing leads back to me. It’s all bloody; he’s still at it in there. I didn’t do much. I just made sure that my lunch was saved. He got scared, and I showed him why he should be scared. I mean, we all know they were all watching him. Every being inside that coffee place was staring at him, judging him, I saw it as well. How they pointed at him and blamed him for what he did. He killed that woman. She was apparently some anchor woman for some tv station. Smart move Brujah, smart move. Lies are all like that, every time I meet a new Lie, they turn out destroying things.<br />I count the money from the cash register, and lick my bloody fingers. He butchered them and I made sure to get my lunch after. Then I alarmed the police. Or rather, I clicked the alarm button underneath the counter. Then I turned on all the gas. It should be blowing up by n- There we go. I wonder if my friend survives. The little Lie should die in flames, but I’ve seen some of them survive. I should have taken his blood shouldn’t I? The mirror’s told me that my own kin’s blood is the most tasty, but I should be careful to drink it, because they prince will know. Oh my prince. So beautiful on his white horse. I rearrange the top hat and take my leave. The Airport is calling, and I got an appointment there. About the white powder. The white powder in my inner pocket. It might be eating off my heart as we speak.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;">Stories and immortality</span><br /><br />“What are you?” She screamed, tied to a chair. Adéle smiled, twirling around to the music in her head. “I’m an artist.” She bowed her head elegantly and then clapped her hands together, turning on all the light, as well as the stereo.<br />“It's not easy having yourself a good time, greasing up those bets and betters, Watching out they don't four-letter”<br />“Oh you made my favorite song!” she laughed, but the girl just screamed for help again. “No one will come; they are used to it in this neighborhood by now. Thinking my husband’s beating me up over and over.” the girl stopped screaming, looking at Adéle. “What are you?” Adéle bowed her head, and stopped dancing. “I’m dead, that’s what I am. I’m death itself.” The poor victim shook her head “You’re that dancer. Adéle is your name.” Adéle shrieked and held her hands upon her ears “No! I am not! I died! I’m the Truth now! I’m Alice in wonderland, I’m a rabbit, I’m dead inside. Petrified, I’m death, I am the Arch angel, I am the ultimate truth! I am Chaos AND order.” “No no, you’re Adéle. You got lungcancer don’t you? I read about it a few years ago. I used to love your ar-“ “SHUT IT!”<br />Silence<br />“I can't decide, whether you should live or die; Oh, you'll probably go to heaven, please don't hang your head and cry”<br />“The Music is right.” Adéle said. “I don’t want to kill you. So don’t call me that name, but tell me, what do you know?” the girl shook her head. Bravely she said “Untie me first.” Adéle laughed “I’ve never tied you up, you just thought you were. Silly goose.” “Nono, there’s robe around my hands.” “Oh. How did that get there?” She danced towards the girl and untied her. “I am sorry, it must have been the entity doing it.” The girl got up standing, and for a second she wanted to run from the empty room. There was nothing there but two chairs, the skylight view, hidden speakers and large panorama windows giving them a view of the entire city at night. “What do you want to know?” She asked, and Adéle took her hands, dancing around and laughing. “You can be my new doll.” The girl shook her head “I got a husband.” “Oh. Me too.” The girl nodded, dancing slowly with Adéle. “Rick right?” Adéle nodded.”Rick. He used to love me, but I locked him inside the mirror.” The girl arched an eyebrow. “So you’ve been here for all those years? fourteen years without anyone hearing anything from you.” “I died, in a car crash.” “Oh? I heard no one was hurt by that crash.” Adéle let go of the girl, and then screamed loudly and ran head first into the wall.<br />“Oh I could throw you in the lake, or feed you poisoned birthday cake, I won’t deny I'm gonna miss you when you're gone. Oh I could bury you alive, but you might crawl out with a knife, and kill me when I'm sleeping. That's why-“<br />They were silent for that moment, then Adéle charged the girl. She screamed, trying to run away, but Adéle was too fast, and she pinned her to the floor.<br />“What are you doing?” the girl screamed, fear in her eyes. Adéle stared at her. “How do you know about the Truth?” “How do you live here?” “Rick, he bought stocks, and as he’s not dead, they are still there.” “Where is he then?” “Dead” “But?” “I saved his corpse”. Adéle kissed her forehead and got up standing again. “I saved him from knowing he’s dead. He’s here, in my bedroom, you wanna see?” The girl got up standing, looking at the city. “So you live off of his stocks?” “Oh no, I write about life, about you, that is why I need you. You need to tell me about your life. So I can write it down, down into a book, and be made immortal.” “Immortal?” “Yes, you will live here, with me, and I’ll write a book about you. Then publish it, and you’ll die, but live on in your story.” “You are going to kill me?” “Not if you do good.” The girl studied Adéle. She didn’t seem strong and the girl then nodded her head. “Fine, I accept.” “You accept death?” “No, I accept being your muse” Adéle laughed “Oh you are not my muse, you’re my Lie, my little Lie, but I will make you truth!” the girl nodded again.”Fine fine, I’ll tell you whatever I think off, and you write it down. Then publish it?” “Yes, I have an artist’s name as well, Alice is the name, like wonderland you see. Alice C. Cooper.” “Wait? You’re A. C. Cooper?” Adéle nodded “Yea.” “You’ve written… twenty, maybe thirty books.” Adéle nodded again “Yes…” “You killed all those?” “No, I made them immortal. Like me.” “So they are all… dead?” “Oh no, They are immortalized on paper, captured and loved forever.”<br /><br />Copyrighted by Cecilie Hornstrup Nemeth, DK © </p>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-61053158060829440992009-03-07T14:48:00.000-08:002009-03-07T14:50:20.917-08:00Rebirth.<div align="center">Now this is the rebirth of Obsidian, I am working on this Manus where the Nine are brought to our world, in the future, to destroy and recreate. Anywho, yea, I hope you enjoy. I won't say much more about it, but, it might be a bit cruel. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">__________________________</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;">A christmas Carol</span></div><br /><br /><br />Christmas night, every child sleeping peacefully in their beds; and every parent still up, preparing for the big day tomorrow morning. The slow falling of snow from the sky, Christmas has come, and so will the joy. But for one creature on this god forsaken earth, the joy was a dream, and Santa didn’t come. He was but fourteen years old, but already cursed by a terrible fate. His shelter, sanctuary, was a church that had long been closed down, replaced by a newer, smarter model. But the building still stood, in this forsaken neighborhood, where the people now had to walk for ten minutes to get to a church. There once had been light inside the building, but darkness had fallen inside of it. Everyone had said their goodbyes to the sad angel statues, the figurines that cried when no one looked, they were as lonely as this child, who was lost, and could never go home. He had been told terrible things, and in the end driven to say goodbye to all the shelter that family provided. Like the angels, he had been alone when he said goodbyes to his friends, to security, to love and happiness. He was sitting between them now, and they looked at him, oh if they were alive, they would provide him with new shelter, save this poor child, but they were statues, only able to cry when they were alone.<br /><br />His name was Junior, Arthur Junior. His father had been a wealthy and powerful man, and proud of his wife to carry a son as their firstborn. He was a child with the best beginning in life, and what drove him to run away was a faith no one would expect to happen to him. His family had given up searching for him, it had been two years now, and no word, still no word from their son, their light. His mother had been touched by grief, utter despair and driven mad. His father buried himself in work, fighting for his sanity to stay put. Booze soothed the father’s mind, where drugs soothed the mothers. But there was nothing to soothe this child’s mind, here at Christmas Night. His green eyes stared at the figure hanging on the cross. Jesus Christ didn’t look back, for he was but a statue himself, and the thought of salvation from this man carved in wood, did not cross the boys mind no more. He had given up hope, he had decided to give into faith.<br /><br />His eyes were a poisonous green color, they had not always been like that, he was born with blue eyes, and blonde hair. He had been a pretty child, now he was a horror to look upon. The hair was silvery white, aged before time, and his eyes had changed to that dreadful color. An alien creation attempted to crawl free on his back, and it hurt him every second, as the skin broke a little, hour for hour it stretched and itched on his back, the pain was sometimes too much for him to handle and he would pass out for a day. But the alien had yet to crawl out of him, whatever it was.<br /><br />No loyal friend had been there for him, they had all forgotten him, or abandoned him, he was no longer a missing child, he had been stored away somewhere. He cried as he leaned his head upon the bench he was sitting up against. His feet touched the opposite bench but he was yet not tall enough to kick upon the bench in front of him, or maybe the walk to the alter was just too wide. He could hear the silent whisper of the wind, pitying him for his terrible faith, but he forgave it not, it had no reason to show him pity, it did not know what it meant to suffer, not when it was caught in a tree did it suffer, it was unable to.<br /><br />And that was when he heard the footsteps. A figure of some importance for this poor boy, and the child turned his head but slightly, to study the person.<br />“You are causing a spectacle” the male voice spoke, broke the silence so brutally it would hardly ever forgive him. The child studied him still, without a word. “I can feel the sadness you create child, make it stop, before it destroys us both.” The man walked towards him. He was not tall, yet not small neither. His hair was envied its color by the shadows, and his face was plain and ordinary, not to recognize from a crowd. He carried his dark color of dressing with respect and pride, and he was a person of respect and authority, yet what did he do in a church at this hour. The child wondered the same, and arose to his feet with some complications. He had been sitting there too long, it was almost as if he had forgotten how to stand again, as if his body had decided to give up, and die on that depressing spot. “… W…w…who are you?” he stuttered a bit, his body had forgotten the ability to speech as well and he had to force words upon his lips. “I am far from your salvation, yet I am here to bring you from this place. To warm your body and feed your hunger.” The child did not understand and question was painted upon his face. “I have seen you before.” “Indeed you have, last time I was in your dreams. Tell me child, do you fear to dream now?” The child nodded slowly. “Will you take me there?” “I will; it is time.” The child nodded again. “And I will no longer be this, sad creation?” “No…” The child nodded his third time. “Then take me now, Death.” The Death smirked lightly and extended a hand. “Then follow me.” And the child took his hand, he left the body that had been his prison for so long, and followed Death, leaving the shell behind to make room for its new host. And the Nine was again complete, with the birth of Obsidian, the controller of Sin. The boy was no more, Death feasted on his soul. Finally the Alien growth could be let loose, and Obsidian stretched his white wings as far as they could be stretched, as he arose and watched the angels look away, not to see the creation of this destruction. The master of Sin, a creation that should never have been allowed access to this world, but could not be kept back by its keepers. And Sin joined the master, as it was requested of him. The angels came alive to cry, before they were burned alive, inside the child’s last resting place.Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-83945426719983945602009-02-03T02:45:00.000-08:002009-02-03T02:55:07.093-08:00Jylia meets Sin<div align="center">This is all random, and probably won't make much sence to you, but please, just enjoy it without question.</div><div align="center">It is new, and It is a project of mine.</div><div align="center"><br />________________________________________</div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff9900;">The day Sin Crashed.</span></div><br />It’s all grey, nothing’s white or black anymore, nothing’s really shining with a color; it’s all so dull, grey and boring. The sky is grey, the clouds are whiter than the sky, yet still, it is but a brighter shade of grey. The people around were all the same, all the same dull color of nothingness, they all had faces, unfamiliar, boring faces, random features, as if they were all a big puzzle of different emotions, yet even the smile that the homeless man who had snuck into the bus flashed was grey.<br />She froze, it was so incredibly cold everywhere, all the grey mass of nothing made the cold even worse, and the summer hadn’t quite touched her skin yet. Her skin was pale, sickening white. She looked like an ancient princess from a dawn of dragons and knights.<br />Her lips red as blood and her hair was black and long. Her eyes were a contrast matched by the black and white on her face. They were green and thereby fought the red lips for attention. She was dressed in black dresses, long sleeves and a high collar. Her features were cold and she wore too much makeup for her white skin; dark makeup, black colors around her eyes. Her nails were polished black as well, and her fingers were long and pale. She studied the grey world without much interest as she denied the world her attention by listening to music too loud and dream herself too far away.<br /><br />And this was when something happened. She turned her head lightly, studying the windows in front of her, out to the open road. She still doesn’t know what made her turn her head, but she did, to glare out the window with no certain interest in anything but to slaughter her boredom before work demanded attention of her and her day would be lost in paperwork and envelopes. She only had a second to respond and she used that second to do nothing but stare, as a person suddenly stood on the middle of the road and was hit and crushed by the bus. People suddenly came alive, awakened by the death of kindred. They arose and women screamed, the bus stopped, some asked the others “What happened?” or “What was that?” four seconds later something landed upon the top of the bus, and they could hear a person running down the roof of the vehicle. Everyone ran to the back of the bus, to look, to see out the windows, what was it, what was it? They could see nothing outside but crowd, people, everyone who had seen the bus hit the person was there, some of them recording on their mobile phones, some of them calling home to talk with their wife, all of them gathered and starring. The bus door opened and people rushed out, first out the driver to see what he had hit. Jylia made her way through the crowd of LA, as curious as everyone else, what was going on.<br /><br />The crowd was thick in circles, and in the middle was a man. Everyone was staring at him, he was sitting on his behind, rubbing his head, completely untouched by the fact that box of metal weighing a ton had just hit him frontal. Pathetic people she thought, and then turned her head, as the first of them, to look at the bus, what was on the roof before? Everyone seemed to have forgotten, but not her. There was a man standing there, possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Mysterious, dressed in dark, oh, and not to forget the large, white, feathered wings that prided the back of him. She stared at him, amazed and she didn’t dare to blink. Her eyes met his, purple, mysterious and lacking the grey of this world. He smiled, she could see the amusement playing in his eyes. His hair was silvery grey, but unlike the grey of the sidewalk, the grey of the buildings, it shined with a life. It was long, cut around his waist, and placed in a loose tail.<br /><br />He whistled, it was a sound hardly hearable, but she heard it, and the second he whistled, the person that had been run over jumped from the crowd, no, leaped into the air and landed both feet on the bus, before he lowered down into his knees and studied the people there. His black hair was a mess, and he bend down in his knees, both hands placed upon the bus roof, looking down at the crowd with green, poisonous eyes. Like the man standing there, his eyes were breaking free from all the dull, they were so lively, so amazingly lively. And they walked off, leaving Jylia standing, without anything to do, but stare like the rest. But she felt colorful, all of a sudden she felt touched with their color, their life.Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-58048426313729329302008-11-10T17:26:00.000-08:002008-11-21T03:10:53.179-08:00"I love you"<div align="center"><br />I fell in love with a song, AND with my own drawing of Doubt and Arousal, so I am doing a part with those two before Grief Part 2.<br />Also, I would like to already now warn you, it will be cute and romantic, and possibly hold a scene or two some of your out there might find incredibly silly or sweet, so watch it, you might actually like this story ^^<br /><br />Anyways.<br />Here goes. </div><div align="center">Oh and by the way, since a friend made me realize that this might not make sense to some...</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Doubt and Liria is the same person, she is simply given a new name after passing her trials as one of the Nine, as well as Tekael being the same person as Arousal.<br />Sorry for the missunderstandings, I hope to one day enlighten you guys in my twisted mind and stuff might make sense :P</div><div align="center">For now, just enjoy...<br /><br />________________________________________________________<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff99ff;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff99ff;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff99ff;">I was made for loving you</span></div><div align="center"><br />Snow white hair wailed in the wind, long and silk, thin hair, that seemed should break when looked upon. Delicate white skin, covered by a white blanket. She was pale as the snow, fitting since she was a child of same. Her icy blue eyes stared out in front of her, watching the sun rise in the mist of morning. Her lips trembled and she was cold, but she enjoyed it out here, it was quiet and silent. Her skinny body shivered as the wind caressed her bare skin. The bones down her spine visible and she could surely break by a light push. Her ears twitched by a sound behind her, a male voice speaking lightly "Liri, love, what are you doing out here?" She didn't face the man behind her, old and wise, she knew he only wanted her the best. "Nothing father, just enjoying a morning" her father sighed at her, and she could hear he didn't leave "Liria, please, get into your bed, you'll get even more sick, he is not coming…" She shook her head lightly, her hair falling into her face, tears caressed her cheeks with small rivers. "I know he will father. I just know it". Her father, wise and loving as he was, walked towards her, but she raised a pale hand "I'll get inside" she slowly spoke and he nodded to her. "Your mother prepared some soup and tea to warm you" she could hear him leave after his last words and returned to gazing upon the sunset, was it true? Was he really not going to show up?<br />Her pale, dry hand softly removed the tears from her eyes and she turned to her home, looking upon the building. Tekael didn't… did he really betray her like this?<br />She shook her head once more but a cough fought its way to her lips and she had to get out with it, coughing heavily. The snow by her feet became red as blood fell from the hand she had tried to cover her mouth with. She was ill and dying, how could being out here make it worse? She was dying already and she would only welcome death with open arms. Like all the other children of winter, she would die early, give no birth to children and never become adult. She knew that was her right by birth and she wouldn't blame her parents for it, it was no one's fault but the gods.<br />Her mother had prepared a meal for her but she ate nothing of it, just sipped from the warm tea and stared out the window, doubting if she'd ever see him again, Tekael… her hands were trembling even though she was inside and the cold of her body never left her, even here, the curse of winter had been upon her for three half-wheels now and she was certain she had only very little time left before the inevitable. Before her parents could bury her.<br />Her mother followed her to her bed, she had warmed the sheets and made sure it was all nice for her little daughter, her only child. Liria thanked her with a nod and crawled back to the bed that had been her home for a wheel's time now. Tekael had watched over her the whole time and she didn't blame him for leaving her side. After all, he was young and needed a love, and she was dying in her bed.<br />Sleep came upon her quickly, strange, after all, she did nothing but sleep these days.<br />She woke as warmth came upon her, an unexpected but welcome warmth. The shape of an other body as a fully dressed man almost collapsed next to her. She felt his arms around her, though he allowed her the sheets for herself, not wanting to steal any of the warmth it provided for her. She smiled lightly, opening her eyes to look upon him. His golden hair was a mess and he had already closed his eyes. She gently caressed his soft cheek, looking upon him as he tiredly opened his eyes. Eyes that used to be burning with such a sparkle of life, eyes that were now dull and sad. She knew what had caused this and she pitied him his love to her. If he had only left, he wouldn't be this sad. Though he smiled at her, she could see all his energy gone, all his joyful mood vanished, he was no longer a Child of the Sun, he was dying more than she.<br />Gently she kissed his nose, whispering to him "Close your eyes and you'll see how happy you used to be". He wrinkled his nose lightly, looking at her with the expression of only a true lover's. His hand stroke through her hair, watching her weak soul. She had been his only priority since the illness, and she still was.<br /><br />When she woke again that next sunbreak, he was gone.<br /><br />Pride frowned at the kid in front of him. The boy was a child, was this really what the oracle wanted him to train? This kid was the new Arousal? He frowned again and snorted at the kid. The boy stood, stubbornly in front of the scary Pride without even the slightest hint of fear in his burning, sun-yellow eyes. Pride turned his back on the kid, resting his hand upon the handle of his sword. "Why do you want this willingly? I know the Oracle picked you, but never before have anyone wanted by heart to become one of the Nine!" The boy looked down "I want the power to save a life" Pride laughed "The power to save lives? Kid we don't save lives… he kill… Get lost!" but the boy stayed, shaking his head "No.. Not lives.. Just one life Master…" Pride turned around, it had been a while since someone had last called him master. "What life in particular?" the young iriel did have his attention now "A girl's life eh?".<br /><br />Arousal raced to the house. He had only been home in T'lorel for half an hour but the word had spread to him instantly as he had reached the gates of the majestic city. He was allowed entrance of course, the high family of Loi'virel respected him and being a member of the Nine also gave quite some respect around the world.<br />He pushed away servants on his way inside the mighty mansion and ran as quickly as possible up to her bedroom, but it was the truth… She was indeed gone, buried and dead.<br />His face changed from worried to desperately crying as Tekael fell to his knees, hiding his face against his thighs. His hands slammed against the floor, frustration, anger, hate. Arousal rose to his feet, pulled his sword from it's holder on his back. Fire blazed behind him as he left her room, making it burn good. He cut his way trough servants and guards, burning everything on his way. No one could stop him as he went on a rampage. Her father, a respected magician rushed towards Arousal to stop him and Tekael smirked as he saw the despair in the eyes of the man now hanging upon his sword. He heard the sound of metal penetrating flesh and bone, and he stared death into the eyes.<br /><br />Speaking of death, a little girl walked out of a shadow outside the house, holding her teddy close and looking up at Pride, she spoke slowly, as if every word she said needed first to be found in her mind. "So he passed?" Pride smirked at her and nodded "With blazing colors. Every bridge is burned, his love is gone, he is now alone and ready to receive his mark." The girl but nodded, looking at the flames. "I see you are here to enjoy my triumph" Pride spoke again, still looking at the burning house. Death shook her head "I am here on my own business. The Oracle send me, Doubt is dead, I am here to collect the next" Pride looked down at her "Why was I not informed of that?" Death shrugged "I wonder why Pride, I really do!" She smirked and Pride thought of reading her mind, but decided not to, last time he did so, he saw the horror of this girl's twisted universe and he sure didn't feel like going there again.<br /><br />Arousal was sitting in his own room inside the Oracle home. His eyes fixed upon his sword as he cleaned it. He didn't hear anyone at the door before there was knocked upon it. His focus still fixed on his blade as he mumbled "Who is it?" a soft voice from the other side, he recognized it instantly and a sting of pain deep down in his heart made him look up at the door "I am your new sister and I was told by Anger to go introduce myself to you" Tekael arose from his bed, walking towards the door, opening it slowly. She was standing in the hallway, so elegant and immaculate, he could hardly breathe. Her ice blue eyes looked upon him in a questioning manner, then she bowed her head lightly "I am Doubt". His eyes went from overjoyed to sad, she didn't remember him… But she was alive and that was all that mattered. He nodded lightly and looked behind him, into his little sanctuary "Want to come in and have a seat? Tell me about yourself?" She spoke humbly, first sounding like she didn't agree to, but after seconds of thought she allowed herself to enter.<br />Closing the door behind him, he looked upon her in question. She didn't remember him after all and he felt pain in his chest once again. She was so beautiful, even now. Her skin as porcelain and her hair as silky and beautiful as he remembered her. Even the scent around her was the same. She fiddled with her dress, nervously, and he didn't know what he was doing before he was searching inside her mind, only to find nothing but darkness and confusing thoughts that made no sense at all. He blinked a few times, she was looking at him.<br />He glanced out the window for a second, then at her "So who is your trainer?" he asked, sitting down on his bed, he had that one chair she had decided to sit upon, a small table next to the chair, and his bed. His room was small and no decorations were upon the wall. He could have had any room he wanted, yet he choose this because he liked it the most.<br />"Death… Death is my master" he frowned lightly and shook his head "No one's your master, you're as strong as them, they are just a guide for now." she smiled invisibly by his words. "I am a failure already I am afraid. I… I am sorry for saying that, but I am. I shouldn't be here in the first place" he studied her "Then where?" he asked, raising a golden eyebrow "I… I am looking for someone.. Important to me" he suddenly smiled hopefully. "Who?" "My father" she said and he gulped lightly "Your father?" She nodded "My father…" "Oh…" she fiddled with her dress still and he slowly arose from his bed, standing in front of her. "I hope you'll find him" he spoke, looking out the window. She left the chair to stand next to him, looking at his face "I… I should leave…" her head bowed downwards humbly and he nodded lightly "I'll see you Liria" he spoke before he thought of it, she stopped by the door, not yet opening it "… How did you know my name?" She whispered, her voice hardly hearable, but he heard her. "I… That was your name? Heh… eh"<br /><br />His hands trailed down her soft, cold skin. Her back had the perfect curve and she looked just like he had remembered her. Every inch of her body had been untouched since then and he leaned his body against hers, his lips gently kissing her skin. She giggled sweetly, a titter from her lips as she turned to face him. Her beautiful face looking up into his golden eyes and Tekael felt like a boy again. "I've missed you" She slowly spoke, her voice so soft and amazingly sweet. "I love you Liri" her tiny, white body moved upwards as she lifted herself up and sitting. He sat up next to her, gently caressing her shoulders with his rough fingers against cotton skin. She leaned against his chest, closing her eyes lightly, her naked body so small compared to his, he was strong and tall compared to his kinsmen and her shape was skinny and tiny, it made him want to protect her from everything. He smelled her hair and kissed her hair lightly, wrapping his arms around her small body, sheltering her from any harm. Teasingly he ran a hand down her small, firm breast, having it bounce happily as he poked it with a finger, hearing her giggle at him warmed his heart and he closed his eyes, whispering "I love you till the end Liria" she moved to sit across on his lap, looking into his golden eyes, asking with a whisper, as if her words were too fragile for her to speak them aloud. "Do you really?" he nodded truthfully and kissed her lips gently "I do, I love you Liria, no matter what happens I'll always love you" she nodded lightly, sliding her hands down his strong chest. "and I you, in the afterlife as well as now". Strong arms pulled her close as he rested his head upon her shoulder. And Tekael cried, not out of pain, but out of joy and love.<br /><br />Anger smiled lightly to Death and went standing from her official chair "I guess the Oracle work in secret ways huh?" Death grinned "Hardly Anger, they knew already... Arousal works better when he's in love. And Doubt... Well they are the perfect match". </div>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-32845954814432746752008-11-09T04:58:00.000-08:002008-11-09T05:19:21.587-08:00Grief Part 1<span style="color:#ffffff;">This part one out of three about the creation if Grief. There are a lot of new characters here that i have yet to propper introduce, but no worries, soon you'll know them as well as everyone else. The Nine is an old organization in my world but it is first now, that every member of the group is revealed. I hope you enjoy this part one, though it is not as fast forward and filled with action as my normal work, it is a begining and therefore a lot of it is introduction.<br /><br />________________________________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">The Summoning.</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><br />Grief is a multi-faceted response to loss. Although conventionally focused on the emotional response to loss, it also has physical, cognitive, behavioral, social, and philosophical dimensions. Common to human experience is the death of a loved one, whether it be a friend, family, or other close companion, and in fact the word "grief" comes from the same root as "grave."<br /><br /><br />Pride had been the perfect choice and he knew it, already before the Oracle had seen the future and the Translators had decided upon what to make of the Oracle's vision, Pride had known that he would be the one chosen for this upcoming assignment. He was the most trustworthy and the most reliable, he was the strongest, the smartest and the best of the nine and the worth of calling all of them for the meeting was to him pointless but he didn't question it out loud, he was loyal, the one most loyal to the oracle.<br />Entering the hall of decisions, his eyes welcomed the homely place. He had spend years inhere, conversing, and it had been a shelter and home where no where else had. Forty-four paintings were hanging, all of them showing the nine trough five generations. Only one painting was missing, there had already been made a spot for the newest member, Grief, and Pride hoped that he would be able to create a strong Grief, and a Grief he could control better than the last one.<br />He was the first one there, he always was, and he sat himself into his chair by the oval table, behind his painting, there was plenty of room in the hall, and he remembered his years of training inhere, sleeping and eating with his four companions, yes, they had only been four when he had been training, for not all of the nine die at the same time, and replacements are found as soon as one is needed.<br />The doors opened, and his purple, iris-less eyes studied the entering figure. She was dressed in a dress for once, Anger only did that when there was called upon her by the highest, but Pride found it a shame, she was beautiful in a dress and he almost envied her that, had he only been born a woman with his strengths as a man, he would have been perfect, women had one thing men didn't… charm. She nodded a greeting to him and sat down with her own painting behind her as it was custom.<br />He heard footsteps and once again eyed the entrance. Death entered. Her hair had reached her hips by now, and though it had been quite a while since Pride had last seen her, the only thing changed was the length of her hair. She was dragging a doll with her, the doll almost larger than the little child. Her all black eyes stared out in front of her and it was hard to see if she was looking in any particular direction. She crawled up to sit on her chair, pulling her large doll with her, then smiled at Anger and waved childishly, Anger slightly returned the wave, though she didn't seem as cheerful as the child, then again, it was hard to be more cheerful than Death, she was always so… jolly.<br />Two more people, but this time he didn't have to turn his head in order to know who entered. Sin dragging his feet was a sound easy to recognize, and Obsidian had a certain aura around him when he was in the room, Pride didn't know what it was, but the Winn disgusted him.<br />They both sat down, Sin next to Death, he instantly started chatting with her about how her day had been so far, but Pride didn't pay much attention to Sin in general and ignored them for now. He didn't understand what Obsidian was doing here, sure he was the only one able to control Sin, yet he was no part of the Nine and shouldn't be allowed inhere. Then again, Pride already knew that he would be picked for this, the Oracle had to pick him, so he hardly saw the difference.<br />A laughter ran trough the hallways, maniacs crackle coming closer and Pride frowned to himself. If there was one person he could stand less than Sin it would be Obsidian, but his disliking towards the Winn was nothing compared to how much he hated the incoming lunatic. Chaos was today in quite the mood as he jumped into the room, the powers of an acrobatic as he leaped into the air, flipped around, twisted and tumbled before landing on the back of his chair, balancing on one feet. He bowed down and flickered a hand in the air as a polite greeting. With the elegancy only the most slender felines possessed, he jumped off the back, landing in sitting position into his chair, smirking at Sin. Sin laughed lightly, speaking to Chaos "Then you could make it brother! Haven't seen you in while!" Chaos placed both his feet upon the table, leaning back into almost laying position, he nodded lightly "Yea Sin, Life's too short for family reunions" Sin laughed lightly and returned to his conversation with Death.<br />If it hadn't been for Pride's perfect hearing, he wouldn't have heard Doubt enter. She was walking on feet covered in light, white cloth. Her skinny, tiny body wrapped in a dress of white silk and her hair covered by a cowl. Her porcelain face as always lost from any expression and Pride always had a hard time removing his thoughts from hers, she was unable to read, even to him, and her mind as closed as her face. All of the Nine could read each other's minds. All but Doubt's mind. It was always silent and closed, unable to enter.<br />Arousal was right behind Doubt as always, those two walked together and only Arousal might have a little insight of Doubt's person, then again, he might know as little as everyone else, Pride didn't credit Arousal of anything useful and he was hardly able to crack the mind of the young serestian, though Arousal himself was an iriel, and those two had at least race in common, Pride didn't believe being blooded with the Sun would help Arousal closer to Doubt. Arousal was dressed in green for today's gathering, and it was surely dressings made by the serestian people, finest cloth there is. Arousal himself had his blonde, golden hair pulled back in a ponytail and his characteristic, carved face indicated and fully noticed that way. His burning, orange eyes seemed tired, and Pride came to wonder what Doubt and Arousal had been up to lately.<br />The last of the Nine finally made his entrance. War was today as always in his armor, a sword strapped to his belt and a large polearm in his hand. He was the only one allowed weapons inside, because War never left them anywhere and not even the guardians of the Oracle could remove his weapons from him, then again, he did carry the mark of War, he was supposed to be warlike wasn't he? War snorted and took his seat, as soon as all places were taken by their rightful owner, the door closed, and the Nine's markings appeared in front of them upon the table, shining with a magic light.<br /><br />A guardian appeared out of nowhere, standing by the door. Even though the Nine were created by the Oracle and all of them had pledged loyalty to same, a guardian were always posted, one could never know with both Sin and Chaos around. Those two were terrible together and could come up with any impossible idea as long as it was random and insane enough.<br />The guardian didn't speak, he couldn't as their tongues are cut out at birth. His eyes sewn shut and his bald head covered in markings of the Oracle. This particular guardian was protecting the Maiden of Truth, the fourth of the five Oracles, and it was her translator whom would today do the briefing. Aneren appeared in front of the closed doors, a small man for an Inix, he carried a scroll underneath his arm, his black wings not visible at the moment, and as well as the guardian and everyone else serving the Oracle as mindless puppets, his hair had been shaved off. He spoke with a voice trembling. Aneren was the youngest of the Translators and he was yet to get used to the presence of the Nine, they were indeed a dangerous as well as a colorful bunch of creations conjured by the Oracle. "The Oracle have seen, the one to gather Grief will be…" Pride could hear his name already called upon "Doubt!" Pride didn't believe it, how? Why Doubt? She was not suited for this kind of assignment? He raised a hand to protest but the Translator ignored him for now "Doubt, you will be accompanied by Anger and Chaos" Pride frowned and lowered his hand so it was not a mistake, Doubt had been chosen. "Sin, you and Obsidian are to travel to New Home and obtain a book there, the Oracle will send a guide with you." Obsidian nodded, standing behind Sin's chair. Sin smirked and leaned back into his chair, mumbling "easy cake". "Chaos, you, War and Pride are ordered to travel together to the country of Arekel, there you are to start a war, that should be easy for you" Pride frowned to himself and shock his head, unbelievable. "And the rest of you are allowed to help where you are needed, though only Doubt herself is allowed to counter Grief openly. Is that understood?" Everyone in the room nodded or replied with a yes and the Translator disappeared. The guardian bowed and opened the doors again before he vanished into thin air.<br /><br /></span>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-45325042446151890102008-11-01T14:49:00.001-07:002008-11-02T03:40:56.298-08:00A love storyHere we go. Not much to say but.. enjoy<br /><br />________________________________<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#33ccff;"><strong>Ghosts and Ruins</strong></span></div><br /><br />Raziel studied her from his quiet spot on the roof. She was out to get water, out in the morning mist. Her orange hair was messy, and her face seemed tired. He kept watching, kept on studying her. He hardly did know her name, and he had never spoken with her, but the past few months he had appeared on this spot, studying her secretly from his hiding spots. She worked at a bakery, and it seemed it was her fathers. Raziel knew her first name, only because of what he had heard, her name was Ash, or what was what people called her anyways, maybe it was a nickname. He knew it was wrong to be spying, but she had caught his interest, so many months ago, but he would not face her, ever. He knew already that he would never get to meet her.<br />The people of Eteka rushed around the market to get done with their morning duties, and she was like a sun between them, humble yet shining so differently between all these dull people. The Well in the middle of the centre market was her destination, and he jumped from rooftop to rooftop. She was of course unaware of his presence, everyone was, for in their world, he did not even exist.<br />Raziel sat like a gargoyle upon the roof of the tavern, close to the well so that he could see her perfectly. His dark cloak left his body with the wind, dancing dramatically behind him. Annoyed he pulled it down, though he knew it wouldn't bring forth their attention, they couldn't see him after all.<br /><br />Snow fell from the sky and decorated the streets of Eteka. It was cold, so cold, but Raziel could hardly feel it, he was a death-speaker, he hardly knew what feelings meant if it hadn't been for Ashlana. That was her name, he had figured out a few days ago when her father had called her name. Ashlana, such a pretty name. He hadn't left his spot for months now and was hardly anything but a pile of snow sitting on a rooftop. He didn't need to eat, didn't need water or even air. He was comfortable in any position, and he had all the time in the world. So he just sat there, studying her every morning and every evening. A few times had he thought if he should go down from the roof and enter the bakery or not, but he was afraid he might ruin this tiny world.<br />So Raziel waited. Winter became wheel's end, wheel's end became wheelmorning, the sun took power, suddenly the snow was gone and Raziel was still sitting upon his rooftop. Studying this young girl, this goddess of his idolatry, every morning and every evening.<br /><br />Raziel became obsessed with his fascination, but his fear and shy nature allowed him only to study, for almost a wheel, when the harvest came and the beginning of the second half-wheel of this young age, Raziel decided that his love would simple choke him if he did not talk with her. He jumped from his rooftop, walked trough the crowd, but no one saw him and no one turned their heads even his direction. It was like, he was invisible to them. He walked past the well and into the bakery shop, but none of them even spoke a word to him or gazed upon him. His love, Ashlana was standing by the counter, talking with a man her own age, they were laughing about something stupid. Raziel closed his fists in anger, jealousy boiled over and he stepped forward, placing a hand upon the shoulder of the man.<br /><br />Darkness came suddenly and Raziel was again alone in the ghostly ruins of what had once been the mighty city Eteka. He was standing in an empty house, angry for no particular reason. There was empty, dusty and destroyed, the building had been some kind of shop but five hundred half-wheels had turned it into nothing but a pile of rumble. Raziel starred out in front of him, frustration, anger, sadness. His eyes filled with tears and for the first time in his life, mortal or immortal, the Death-speaker wept.Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-42545153413233745912008-11-01T08:45:00.000-07:002008-11-01T08:53:47.140-07:00I know I promised somethingYea I know I promised something on the blog, and that was to dedicate the next story to Rasmus, but he's helped me too much for me to dedicate this story to him, I'd rather dedicate this story to my most humble fan, myself. Of course I am fan of my own writing, after all, why write if I didn't like the outcome? If I hated the stories? Why then write?<br />Well I am writing this out of pity for today is misserable, I am misserable, and I might as well write something misserable, just because I know that self pity goes a long way in this world. It is really what makes us spin around and around and around.<br />So I'll work on this piece of misserable tale. It will be here soon, so be ware. This is my most enjoyed style, and it might not seem like my normal work, but I like my stories sad and misserable, and almost no one wins in my world but the bad guys and the Anti-heroes.Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-70414664003424682792008-10-31T05:38:00.000-07:002008-10-31T05:44:42.988-07:00Letters<div align="center">Now, because I have only five active readers who give me comments and all, I am making a story for each of them. Hehe. Sin was for Lee, and here comes one for Tine, one of my best friends ever, I hope you like it. This is to you.</div><div align="center">Next one will be to Rasmus and it'll be about a Winn, his favorite Race.</div><div align="center">________________________________________________</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#993399;"><strong>Jannoch Blackstone</strong></span> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />"Dearest Mirren" his brown eyes stared at the letters for way too long, and then he curled the paper within his hands and tossed it over his shoulder, landing upon a pile of paper, hundreds of curled up pieces of papers that were all failures in the eyes of the writer. He found a new sheet and picked up his feather pen. Minutes passed, his brown eyes starring at the white paper, his left hand, holding the pen, did not move. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he turned his head to glare out the window of the tower he was sitting inside. His hand moved, writing slowly "My love… By the gods I hate you!" he turned his glance towards the letters, then sighed to himself again and tossed that sheet over to its new friends. A hand knocked on his door, and he turned to face it. His room was comfortable, small but nice. "Yes?" he spoke and someone mumbled from the other side "Master Blackstone, you have a visitor" Sir Blackstone arose from his chair, walked from his little desk and towards the door "Send him in" he answered and unlocked the door. He could hear his trusted servant run down the stairs, only to come up again moments later with a man at his side. Blackstone had already turned his back upon the door, and was starring out his large window, studying the woods around his home. A dry sawn voice behind him, whispering because it was unable to speak louder "Master Blackstone. I got your request with me" Blackstone turned, facing the crippled young man in front of him, undead, how he could ever have any pity or respect to such a creature was a mystery to him, yet he had taken this man in when no one else would "Thank you Richard. Please, leave it here" He nodded with a soft smile and the undead fished out a large jewel, placing it on the floor, bowed deeply and backed away "What will you have me do master?" He spoke, and Blackstone felt such a pity towards this sad creature, that he shook his head "I got no more work for you Richard, not at the moment, so you are off duty to roam the home for now" the undead bowed his head, and Blackstone could see by the look of his face, that the undead was not pleased "As you wish" "Though Richard…" The undead turned quickly, a light in his eyes, he wished to serve and help "There is one thing, if you're bored…" The undead clapped his hands together, nodding eagerly "Yes master?" "I need you to go spy on someone for me, can you do that?" "Yes ma-" the undead didn't make it to finish his sentence, before someone interrupted "Jannoch, please, there is no need to send your pet to spy on me, I am but right here!" Blackstone turned his face, the voice brought up enough anger to make his blood boil. "Now, move you pathetic creature" Vian pushed the undead out of sight. Richard ran down the stairs.<br />Jannoch turned his back at Vian, glaring out the window. "What do you want?" he asked, and Vian but laughed lightly, kicking to the jewel on the floor "Still addicted I see?" Jannoch frowned lightly and nodded "I will stay that was as long as you live. Now, what do you want?" Vian walked closer, but Jannoch had already put up a invisible barrier to protect him, Vian sighed disappointed "I just came to make sure my favorite sobby enemy is still sitting tight while I sleep next to his girlfriend every day!" Jannoch turned around, snarling at Vian "Why Vian? I am sure she would handle the stone to you right this instance if you just asked her, why do you HAVE to stay with her?" "Oh please Jannoch, is it not obvious…? Remember what happened to Lance? A long time ago?" Jannoch frowned and stared out the window "Yes, he murdered his own love… you made him" Vian laughed to himself and shock his head "I didn't make him, I just helped him explore his inner demon, his inner killer. And I want you Jannoch, I want you on my side, I want you to understand why being evil is just.. So much better!" Jannoch frowned. "I wouldn't ever do your simple bidding, now get lost!" Vian nodded, bowed elegantly and turned to walk out "I bid you farewell then Blackstone, Till we meet again" Jannoch turned, about to say something, but Vian was already gone.<br />Jannoch kneeled down and picked up the jewel, looking at it for a moment, then sighed to himself. His dry lips moved only slightly, and his bony, dry face made him seem hollow and more dead than the undead that served him. He dropped his robes to the floor, letting his naked, bony body bathe in the sunshine. A body covered in magical glyphs, inscriptions and markings. It was a masterpiece to look upon, and no one would be able to make sense of it, chaos magic worked that way after all and not even Jannoch understood the glyphs completely.<br />He crushed the jewel between his hands, the magic rushing into his body, filling up every line of the markings with a strange, string of magic, a glow surrounded him and he leaned his head backwards, breathing in satisfied. His shape transformed with the magic, muscles grew out, youth appeared upon his face, life in his brown eyes. He smiled to himself and walked to his closet. He found his dark robes, black robes with an edge of red. The robes of a death-speaker. He dressed his body in those colors, then left his tower, going up, up and up the tower, until he reached the roof, it was flat and made him able to stand on it. Called out into the air, yelled in foreign languages, and a storm appeared out of nowhere to help him on his way. The letter to Mirren could wait, he had things to do, people to see, formulas to cast. He whirled his hand around and around in front of him, making a large tornado appear, crushing trough the nearby villages, on its way to his home. And the winds broke as a mighty creation came forth, as resurrected by the winds. A dragon, one of the last of its kind. It flew close to his tower, awaiting. The winds lifted this man, carried him to the back of this mount. He patted the silvery creature and spoke a destination to it, and it took off, leaving his home behind, his destination… Nao M'var. </div>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-76952699744332812822008-10-29T09:54:00.001-07:002008-10-29T09:55:55.307-07:00Sin<div align="center">Now because one person I know really liked Sin, I am doing a little something on him.</div><div align="center">Here you are, how Sin and Obsidian met.</div><div align="center">To Lee, because he really is a nice guy. And It's not like I have that many fans now is it? Hehe</div><div align="center">Oh and Karkel... you'll meet him and Twee on, no worries.</div><div align="center">_____________________________________</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#330000;"><strong>Killing..</strong></span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br />He could count seventeen of them, tied down on hands and feet forced behind their back. His green eyes returned to his group of warriors. He had brought eight of his best, but considering that this fiend had brought down seventeen of his people and tied them up like this; without they had been able to give him even a single scratch, told him that it was silly to even consider attacking. He had to watch for now, and hope for a miracle. Karkel, named Cutter by his human kinsmen turned his head to face Twee, the youngling was not strong enough for this, but it was a good opportunity to show his child the evils of this world. He nodded and waved his son closer. The young man crawled on all fours, sneaking close to his father, peeking up over the bushes to see for himself. Twee seemed thoughtful for a moment, then nodded to his father after he had studied the scene “We can do this” He whispered, but Cutter shock his head. “No he is too strong”. A man behind them, named Lerishúl or Raccoon on the native tongue frowned and moved forward, whispering “Cutter, we have a chance, if just..” but Karkel raised a hand lightly and shock his head “I will not put your lives carelessly, into the hands of this madman!” he snarled trough whispers.<br />“You’re slipping my dear friends!” His voice roared through the woods and the sound brought chills down the spine of Karkel, his gaze turned to the man walking through his prey. He was wearing all black, and it was like his shadow roamed on its own, too large for it to be normal, an abnormal shape of pure darkness, it didn’t look the slightest bit like this man’s shape. His cruel voice called out again “You are slipping down a Path, and I am here to help you!” what was this? Cutter understood nothing of this, why would this man, this fiend capture his people just to talk to them? What were his reasons? “You are weak, you are young, and you are going to die!” most of the victims screamed but they had all been gagged and were hardly able to make a sound. The man laughed and extended his arms to each side and upwards into the air, twirling around himself as the sun caressed his pale face, a face too perfect, firm and soft to fit such a monster. His eyes shined with a certain, red color and from what Karkel could see, he had no scars on him, he was indeed, perfect. “I know you might be scared, I know, Oh I know what it feels like… You see, that scary face, knowing it is to die, I have seen it many times.” The man leaned down to one of the people, a young woman, and Karkel’s best archer. She was crying and she tried to fight as the man pulled her up by her chin only, but the pain was too much and she had to stand. They stood like that, face to face, silence from everyone for several seconds, then the man reached towards her face with his free, gloved hand and pulled the gag out of her mouth “now, have something to say child? Oh please, speak it now for you are running out of time, can you hear the birds? They go tweek tweek, they know you are to die, and you will feed them, your mind filled with lies. You have cheated on your husband? I can tell!” She spit him in the face, screaming “WHO ARE YOU TO DO THIS?!” he laughed, dried off his face and tossed her down on the dirt, turning his back on her, laughing a hallow, cold laugh. “Who am I? Now… who can tell me this? Who I am to do this? Do I have to be something special to kill? Did the gods not create us so that we could kill? Is that not what we do? Be it human, Seresta or me? Do we not kill?” He spit at her, and then leaped into the air, jumping down on her back as she tried to crawl away. The sound of bone against bone, her body jerked backwards as her bones broke, her whole back breaking underneath his surprising strength. She spit out blood, unable to scream as her lungs were already destroyed. Her body shaking terrible as all her nerves died, as her body decided to give up. A whispering, terrible sound as her last strength went into trying to scream. Karkel turned his head, not wanting to look.“NO! No No No!” the man pulled into his own hair, walking around in circles “Look what you made me do? Now there’s only sixteen left, and I soo wanted seventeen. I really, really wanted Seventeen..!” He turned around himself, mumbling in frustration, and then he screamed angrily, looking through the crowd of people he had captured “Who made me do it? Huh? Come on, admit it… I do not mind!” <br />“I did” a sound appeared from nowhere, and Karkel looked up, curious of who would dare interfere. A man stood, the long, silver hair hanging loosely on his back. He was dressed in green robes with bonds of silk hanging from shoulders, bonds decorated with glyphs and runes, the tongue of gods. Karkel studied this new figure with interest for just seconds, then waved his men closer, whispering “If they start fighting, we charge in and help our people. No one fights unless that’s the last solution, just cut them loose and run, got it?” His men nodded.<br />“WHY? Who are you? You can’t just!” the killer yelled loudly into the face of the newcomer, making the man just dry his cheek with his sleeve “I am here to get you Sin” Sin shook his head “NO! I’m fine here! I got all I need” the man sighed lightly “It is not an option Sin, I am here to get you whatever you wish it or not..!” Sin laughed cruel “I am not that easy to just pick up! And I’m not into that guy on guy thing… Find another lover you freaky fuck” the man smirked lightly, a rare, almost ancient smirk upon his face “But Sin… You are now given two options, either you go with me now and quietly do my every bidding, or we make this fun and I challenge you to a duel!” Sin eyed the man up and down “You got some nerve don’t you?”<br />Karkel was quick to order all his people to retreat, but he had to stay himself, curiosity burned his inner soul and he had to watch this fight or he would be haunted by doubt the rest of his life.<br />Sin laughed manically and extended first his left arm, a black wing folding out with it, then his right arm quickly followed by another wing. He stretched his entire body lightly and laughed to the man “There! Go run with you while you can. You surely did not expect this kind of creature? I am Sin, The reincarnation of every mortal’s sin. Run, hide, I know you did not expect this!!” the man laughed lightly “You amuse me Sin, how you love yourself, yet… you are nothing but my pet, and soon you will understand that!” Sin snarled “Who are you?” the man bowed lightly, slowly bright wings folded out from his back, white and a contrast to Sin’s “I am Obsidian, pleased to meet you Sin” Sin pointed at him and backed a bit “you’re.. a Winn?” he trembled lightly In fear, still backing lightly. “Oh yes my dear Inix, a Winn, your nemesis, come on, fight me!” Sin frowned, then pulled his daggers “Fine! Let’s do this!” and before Karkel’s keep Erelian eyes could see what was going on, the two of them were tumbling around in the air. It all went so fast, feathers everywhere. But not yet blood. Obsidian pushed Sin away from him and then a large bolt of blue light appeared from his palm, shooting Sin away from him. Sin shock his head angrily, then flew towards Obsidian again. The winn attempted another spell, but he was not quick enough and Sin slammed into his stomach, forcing them both to fall downwards, Obsidian first. They crashed into the ground, and Sin jumped away from Obsidian, laughing dearly “You pathetic bird, tweet tweet you go, you’re all but song!” Obsidian laughed silently, making Sin raise an eyebrow, going closer “What? You’re not supposed to laugh!” laughing, he slowly stood, brushing the dirt off him “You’re… unharmed?” Sin frowned lightly, eyeing Obsidian “Yes indeed, you are not the only one able to survive anything Sin” Sin spit on the ground “Well let us continue then!” “Why? I believe I won” Sin raised both eyebrows, then snickered “And how did you do that Mr. Guy in a dress?” “Oh you didn’t even notice?” Obsidian asked, making Sin bark at him “Explain NOW!” “Oh please Sin, are you not going to fight any more? I scare you? Go ahead, try and fight me now!” Obsidian held up a small, black vial with some strange, glowing liquid inside of it “You didn’t . . . ? “ Sin stood, stunned “Oh yes I did, and you didn’t even notice. Do you know what this is?” Sin gulped lightly and nodded “Yes… that is mine… give it back!” Obsidian shook his head “Oh please, why would I? You now belong to me!” Sin stepped closer “Give it! NOW!” “or what? You’ll attack me? I’ll smash it!” Sin frowned, looking down “I need it…” “No you don’t. In this bottle it’s all safe and sound.” Sin charged forward, but Obsidian quickly took off, flying “You really want to test your luck? If I destroy it you do die am I not correct!” Sin snarled “Fine Fine! What do you want!?” Obsidian landed again “Your help… Your abilities… Your murdering tendencies” Sin smirked lightly “I don’t kill for good, I kill for myself” “Oh please, Sin, I am not that kind of Winn… but follow me for now, please…” “Well, you have my shadow, I can do nothing but now can I?” Obsidian smirked “I hardly believe you are able to live without it…”</div>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-11466436483728908622008-10-27T06:34:00.000-07:002008-10-27T06:37:36.133-07:00About the new BlogI finally got to make a new blog for those who want to know something about my characters more than they can read, and want some silly information about me as well.<br />Silly information is important.<br />Well anyways.<br />The links are at the bar to the Right ----><br />so just go click there if you want to know anything.<br />I will put up a lot more links as I go, at the moment it is kind of loosely overthere. But it will come.<br />Anyways.<br />Have fun reading, I will now go write something about the first character, Juan because we all love him.<br />Oh and remember to go read my latest story, I posted it today just before I posted this.<br />It's the Obsidian, Anger and Sin one. heh.<br />Take care yoall.Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-15484594945128877262008-10-27T06:12:00.001-07:002008-10-28T02:29:14.822-07:00Obsidian, Anger and Sin<div align="center">Now, let me introduce a few, new characters. These are different in many ways and I might, when I one day can be arsed, explain what a Winn and an Inix is. As well as the other races I have mentioned. I am working on an explonation of the Seresta at the moment.<br />Now, enjoy this tale and introduction of three characters that you will meet many times from now. Oh and I might one day explain what is with Caelon and his wife.<br />_________________________________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;">Death</span></div><p><br /><br />She swung the large sword in front of her, cutting nothing but air; he was too fast, too agile. Rage, shown in blue, frustrated eyes. He could see how they had been crying only minutes ago. Sireva charged him, screaming wrath. He was quick to fall to the side, though he did not yet draw his own weapon, he did not mean to harm her, but it might be a last resort. She screamed at him, words he hardly understood “WHY? Why Caelon WHY?” tears strolled down her beautiful cheeks and he felt a sting in his heart. Caelon but shock his head. “It was not my fault Sireva” his voice yet calm, he tried not to bring forth any more anger in her, or she might actually put some effort into killing him. His attempt failed as she ran towards him again, bare feet trough the wooden ground. He avoided the weapon but got in close to her, hugging her close “Please Sireva… “ she cried against his shoulder “Caelon, I… I…” She drew her dagger, forcing it into his chest, a surprised expression upon his face as he felt pain penetrate his body. “I HATE YOU!” She screamed into his face, pulling out the hunting knife “I HATE YOU CAELON!” She stabbed him again, penetrating a breastplate, a vital wound this time. “I HATE YOU!” he was silent now, falling to his knees, green eyes going blank as he saw nothing but a shade in front of him, could this really be Sireva? The girl he had loved so passionately? She kneeled down, now she realized what she had done and she hugged him close, crying “I… No! Cael wake up… I didn’t mean to… wake up Caelon!” she shook him in her arms, desperately screaming into his dying face for him to wake up. He raised a hand slowly, the last strength he had as he caressed her cheek, stained with blood and tears. He softly whispered to her “Please… forg-“but fell backwards before he could finish his sentence.<br />She screamed desperately towards the moon, cursing it for forcing her to do this. And then she crawled close to him, holding him in her arms and begged for forgiveness.<br /><br />“What have we here?” a deep male voice spoke out, accompanied quickly by another “Looks like something’s gone wrong here?” the other voice was slightly more… ruffled, as if speaking trough something, and not as elegant as the first one. Sireva heard them but she did not open her eyes. “Which of these are the victim you think?” the second voice asked the first, and the first replied after a short, thoughtful break “Aren’t women always the victim?” a rough, cold laughter came from one or the other; she had a hard time telling each apart. “Now little girl, please stand” that was the first voice, she could tell by the lack of compassion that seemed to go with him. She didn’t open her eyes, playing dead might make them leave. And then she heard the sound of giant wings, something landed close to the two voices, accompanied by a last voice, more feminine yet again ruffled, sounding blocked by something. “What have you found? We do not have time for looking at dead animals!” “Oh but Ann, look at this?” the second male voice spoke to this “Ann” person; Sireva could hear footsteps closing in “Yes, we do not have time to look at dead animals, leave them alone!” a cold, arrogant tone came from the more feminine of the three and judged by the name Ann it might very likely be a woman. “And what are we looking for Obi, could you tell me that again?” the second of them asked, clearly to the first one for he replied “A murder between husband a wife…” “Bingo! Ann I might believe you’re out of your league here, we found the target!” a grin coming from Ann as a foot hit Sireva brutally and without remorse in her face. “Girl! Stand!” Sireva gulped and spit out blood on the ground, then stood up, eyeing the two of them. Now Ann must be the woman in front of her, dressed in a black robe of some kind, the ruffed sound would surely be made from the piece of cloth in front of her mouth and her black hair was hanging loosely to around her waist. But her looks was not what had Sireva’s attention, it was those black, huge wings that seemed to have grown from the woman’s back. The other two lacked wings, but this woman was surely equipped with a set, large and feathered.“Wha… what do you want?” Sireva asked mumbling, the presence of this woman made her nervous, and her tongue hurt like hell, she had bit on it when the boot had hit her face. “We simply want to know…” the woman did the talking, her voice still cold and uncaring “… OH please” it was the first voice, belonging to this Obi. “Give the woman some space Ann, her husband’s dead and she’s all alone…” a tall man pushed those wings away as he walked closer to Sireva. Never had she seen such a man, he was tall, slender, beautiful in any way. His hair was silvery and long, arranged on the back of his body, a body who’s language was kind and welcoming, he carried no weapons and no wings, his cloth were white and black, making him shine of respect. He stood in front of her for a second, then bowed his head in a greeting “We wish you no harm miss. I excuse for Ann’s manners, we are simply here to figure out what happened” the woman frowned “Bah, Winn people; they are always like that” and now Sireva understood and it had really been true what Caelon had said. Her eyes trailed down to the dead body of her husband and she hated herself for doubting him just a second. “So it is true what he said?” she whispered “my son…” the man lightly nodded “I am afraid that is the truth of it.” Her hands formed into fists, she trembled in anger “Why?... Why him?” the man in front of her spoke again “Why someone else? You should take great pride in the destiny of your child he-“ “No! I will not hear it! I know what you do to children! I know it!” a loud sigh and the third person walked up close. He was followed by a certain mystery. Black, messy hair, a masked face as well and dressed in all black. He wore a torn, black cloak that seemed to create a deep, unnatural shadow around him. He walked past Obi and towards Sireva, raised a hand and slapped across her face. She fell to the ground, he was stronger than it looked, and she could hear ringing from her ears for a few seconds. The man shrugged lightly and mumbled “Wups, sorry Obi”. Sireva was pulled up standing again by the woman who snarled into her face. “What did you do to your husband woman?” Sireva cried now, the pain was too terrible. “I killed him!” she screamed into the face of the woman, who pushed her behind, letting her trip over the dead body of Caelon. Obi turned to face the masked number two of them and shock his head “I believe there is nothing more to do here, Sin, you can finish her off, I wash my hands on this one”. Her eyes widened and she shook her head “no, please… No!” she cried, but Sin was already over her, a maniacs laugh as he stabbed trough her body, again and again and again. She tried to fight back, her hands in panic as she grabbed a huge stone and hit him in the face with it, no response. She screamed, a sound of utter pain and fear ran through the forest, but it was too late and she was left on top of her already dead husband. </p><p></p><p><br />Anger sighed, glaring out over the hills, and then she turned to face her companionship “Well at least someone had his fun today." Sin looked up, he was lying on his back, looking up, a large smile upon his face “It was fun, it’s been a while since the master’s let me loose” she frowned lightly “Speaking of the master… where is he?” Sin shrugged lightly “How should I know, Obsidian finds me when he needs me, not the other way around” Anger smirked lightly, she shrugged and returned to gaze out over the horizon “How does Obi then know that you’re not just butchering people? He doesn’t keep his dog at a leash?” Sin laughed dearly and leaned back into the grass “Obsidian trusts his puppy, that’s his ways” Anger smirked “I bet he got something on you…” Sin frowned “ Why are you so interested in Obi anyways? He’s just some stuck up brat!” Anger turned to face Sin again, walking towards him “He is… important Sin, you understand? Obsidian is a Winn, yet he turned to the Inix… I want to know why he betrayed his kinsmen” Anger was almost screaming in his face and she didn’t hear Obsidian as he landed behind her and made his wings disappear into thin air “Oh but that is simple Anger. I enjoy this life rather than the life the Winn could give me”. His voice annoyingly calm as always and Anger turned to face him, her features fitting her name. “Stop doing that!” she snarled at him and then turned to walk. Obi snapped his fingers and pointed after her, making Sin stand up, nod and run after her. </p>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-55735970206747787882008-10-10T18:38:00.000-07:002008-10-10T18:51:45.074-07:00The FallThis one if about one of my favorites. Lance.<br />Lance is the oldest character I have, he has outlived even Narodimus... Even Juan and Vian are younger than Lance Greenleaf. So be nice to him... And shed a tear if you have to.<br /><br />_____________________________________________<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ccccff;">A bard's tale about evil.</span></div><br />The bard walked into a dusty inn, it was halfway empty, only a few sitting in the corner, planning and plotting, and a young group of travelers by the fireplace. But that did not stop the eager man from sitting down next to the fireplace, speaking as if his own mind, yet he go the attention of all the inn. "Lance. Poor Lance some might still whisper in the corners. Lance Greenleaf was born a treewalker, but quickly trained in the powers of a whisperer. He was known for his great powers in the arts of controling the nature, but that is not the tale for today, no, no one speaks no more of Lance's good, for his kindspirited nature and his helpful demanour. No, that is all forgotten because no matter how much good you do, one evil act will change that. Lance is now feared and reknown for few acts that has done more impact to the world than a lifetime of good. But enough of this, let me tell you a tale no one knows about Lance." The bard held a artistical break, then got himself a beer with a wave of his hand to the barkeeper. The adventurers, awakened with curiosity, eagerly nodded of him to go on, but everyone was now silent, because everyone knew the feared Greenleaf, and everyone enjoyed a good tale of horror. They will get disappointed.<br /><br />"Aneria was her name, and it is of her I will tell a tale. She was beauty of a lass, indeed, her hair burning red, like the sunset, and her eyes green like the spring leaves. And Lance had loved her from the very moment he laid his eyes upon her. Oh yes, Aneria was a beautiful woman, adored by many men, but her kind nature allowed her not to marry, for she was too good a person and wanted only friendship. Oh yes, her kind heart would not allow her to ever love one man more than the other, so they were all but friends, admirers in the dark. Lance was young at the time, such a young lass, clumsy and shy, but when that summer day came, and he saw Aneria for the first time, his good heart was given away.<br />She was walking trough the fields, collecting wild berries from bushes that grew on the untendered land. Her body delicate wrapped in white cloth. Her red hair burning fiercely in the sun. Lance was sneaking about in the shape of a large, brown dog, he enjoyed this shape particularly, for it made him able to sneak around without anyone's notice much. He was but a stray dog in the eyes of most." The bard held a break, drinking from his glass of beer. "She spotted him, and though she feared the animal a bit, her good heart would not allow her this fear, and she called him forth, petting him and laughed. His heart was sold. Her laughter, pretty as the beautiful songbird.<br />She took him in, living in a small hut where she grew roses and sold to the noble as well as poor. She tendered for him for days, believing he was but an animal and nothing more, and Lance dared not to shatter her belief of him. She named him Stray and gave him a leather collar and food every evening.<br />He lived with her for half a month, at that time, most of the whisperer clans were looking for him, for they all needed his advice, his powers and his wisdom, even in youth Lance was the wisest and strongest of the whisperers, whom else are known for their great knowledge in everything."The bard smiled at the travelers, then nodded as the other group of people came close to hear his tale.<br />"But one day, when Aneria was walking trough her gardens, taking care of her flowers, a horse approached, white and shining, what a stallion it was. And upon it sat a man in green, hair as yellow as corn and eyes burning orange, a Seresta and his name was Vian D'unian. He was a whisperer, and asked the young girl for information, if she had seen his friend Lance Greenleaf. The girl could only answer that such a man had not passed, and she offered shelter for the young man. Lance was furious, but he stayed in his animal form, his love to Aneria growing too strong, and he would not defile her yet by showing his true self, for he knew it would make him seem but a liar and a charlatan.<br />So Vian dined with her that evening, and they laughed, while poor Stray was left forgotten in his corner, not delighted her attention, her heart or simply her distant touch. And that is when he had his plan, he snuck out the door, to transform into himself, there he could say he was searching for Vian, and he would surely be found, a welcome guest.<br />The dog snuck out the door, into he night, their laughs behind, but he could not hear any of their attention turn towards him." The bard sighed in despair, feeling sorry for poor Stray" Outside, he hid into the woods where he had transformed from human.<br />He walked back, happy that he could finally meet the girl, only to see thugs trying to rob the house. They must have snuck close by while he was gone."The bard jumped up on a chair now, waiving dramatically<br />"So the thugs dragged her out, laughing and laughing, holding Vian down as if he could do nothing. Greenleaf ran to the rescue of his love, waiving with a wooden stick while cursing at them and telling them to leave her alone, but he could feel fur grow out from his skin and he could but only hear barks come from his mouth, he had been too eager and the transformation was yet to be completed? he stood, half man half beast, of course, he scared off the thugs, but also his love, who screamed in horror at this creation before her.<br />And Vian, who recognized the beast form of his mentor and elder, he stood up, formed his hands together, green lights surrounded him"The bard formed his own hands together, twirling around himself as green lights appeared and illusions danced around him."Lance tried to force the rest of the transformations upon him, but something went wrong, he roared at Vian for he knew now what had happened, he had not been to eager. Roots surounded him and forced him down to the ground, he felt the pain of Vian's magic forcing itself upon his body, and then he saw the charlatan of a Seresta walk up to him and kneel down in front of him. Lance attempted to bite the man, but Vian was too quick, too surefooted. He whispered into his ear-" The bard leaned down towards one of the young men, whispering but loud enough for all in the room to hear if they listened close enough "I knew it was you, and I know you want her… and all you have, shall be mine… I forced your transformation to stop, for I am more powerful" The bard stood up again "And he dragged his sword!" And the bard drew his sword "But Aneria, kind hearted as she had always been, felt around Vian's waist, begging of him to let the animal go, show it the mercy, it had saved them. Vian smirked and nodded, lifting the roots from the body of Lance, but Lance, filling with Hate and anger jumped at Vian with teeth and claw. The Seresta was again too quick" The bard held a break, lowering his sword, his voice now sad.<br />"Aneria was dead in his arms only seconds later, and Vian jumped upon his already saddled stallion, yelling after Lance - I will destroy all that you love - and then rode off into the night, Lance, unable to do anything… just hugged his love close… And wept."<br />The bard dried off a tear, swong his green cloak and left trough the door and into the night, transforming into a large, brown dog named Stray.Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-35513762766324117542008-10-06T05:03:00.000-07:002008-10-06T05:06:56.558-07:00Brothers' blood.This story is about Juan and Vian, a meeting that took place between two happenings in a RP. A meeting not many know about, and especially not the Characters involved in the plotting taking place.<br />You will meet both characters again later on, so I will not yet reveal what is between these two brothers, why Vian is an idiot, and Why the Lady of Mists look the way it does. I will furthermore not yet tell you what the connection between Juan D'unian and Narodimus M'var is, that will be my secret untill I write about it.<br /> For now, Enjoy this little meeting.<br />___________________________________<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;">Juan D'unian and Vian D'unian </span></strong></div><br />The harbor was alarmingly noisy this evening and everyone was busy packing up shipments and getting their wares to the warehouses, stopping those boys from stealing whatever they could get their fingers upon and carrying dead soldiers in boxes into the large city. Because Ravencrown is a city, one of the largest in all of Eri, only matched by few of the Erestian cities, and of course, the city of Gods.<br /><br />The crowd split in two to make way for horses. A pair of white, beautiful horses dragging with them a small carriage. A carriage without any cover for rain, but also a carriage that allowed the rider to stand, and so he did. Standing on his two feet, horses reins in his hands. He wasn't quite the tall man, rather a small one, and easily noticed as being one of the "small people" at the humen would call him. He was a Seresta, and his hair held the color of the summer sun, golden blonde. His eyes golden, calculating and dangerous. He was not a strong man, rather a smaller, intelligent one. Though he traveled alone, the crowd moved, and no one attempted to scare his horses, pull him down or sneak up the carriage for a ride. He wore noble clothings, robes of the shining green colors, proving him an accepted "whisperer" and thereby a magician able to control the powers of nature. His blood making him a Seresta, and his ability to control the nature itself, made him a man you would not want to fight.<br />He stopped his horses by words rather than moving the reigns, then jumped down from the carriage. A huge wolf woke from the dept of the transport, lifting its white head and nodded at this man, agreeing with him, it would keep guard for now.<br /><br />A ship entered the Harbor, old and dusty, but also a ship of some strange respect around it. The afterdeck being holed and old. The ship owning only a holed, burned down sails. Words, old, written on the steer of the ship, wrote "The Lady of mists" and only few people was seen serving as the lady's crew. The galleons figurine was but a corpse of a young woman and it was still possible to see how her face had been screaming in horror and pain. She had died hanging there. The ship laid still for a few minutes, nothing moved, the harbor all quiet, awaiting the pirates to storm, but only one man jumped off ship, smiling brightly and nothing you would expect from that ship.<br />A Seresta, his hair the color of autumn, messy brown with the hint of red. He walked with a certain elegancy about him, not minding where he went and not minding whomever might look upon him. Wearing an eye patch was the only hint he might be a pirate, apart from his ignorant nature and his accent when he spoke words. Which he did all the time to be frank, now, he was mumbling to himself. He wore a simple white shirt, half open, and a pair of linen, black pants. Nothing out of the ordinary there, though the certain elegancy around his whole nature, catlike in balance was easy to see. His brown, almost red eyes studied the harbor, then a smirk appeared upon his lips.<br /><br />"My and what do I see? Is that really the Proud Juan D'unian here to greet?"<br />Juan yawned and nodded lightly, glaring at the man in front of him, speaking his direction. Oh yes, if it wasn't the proud brother of his, older, smarter perhaps? Who knew.<br />"Ye'r be reque'n me pressen'e" Juan grinned, glaring at Vian D'unian. Vian nodded lightly and politely nods towards his horsespan "Let us find a quiet place to disgust this matter" Juan shrugged lightly, whatever his brother might want, it surely could have nothing to do with the "lady" an surely it couldn't be that important. But Vian was a man of secrecy and scheming, and of course, if he had some strange plan again, Juan would hear it. So He followed his brother trough the crowd, as the Lady again set her sail and left the harbor to roam the seas.<br /><br />"The butchered pig" was a lovely tavern these days, and the two men found their way there without any disturbance. They had said nothing to each other yet, Juan but glared at the white wolf in the carriage, and Vian but riding the horses, no words exchanged.<br />They entered the lowly tavern, dusty and dark, not many came here anymore and the innkeeper was a strange looking fellow. Fat, old and cranky, nothing friendly about him, and not the most kind spirited person either.<br />"Wha' ye be drag'n me here for eh?" Juan said, annoyed of his brothers typical behavior, then nodded at the barkeep "Oi! Fatlad, ye fill 'ne glass o' Ale for me frien' and 'ne glass o' rum for meself eh" The fat man growled something, but words Juan took no interest in, so he just sat down by a table near a dead fireplace.<br />Vian took off his green robes, wearing red ones underneath, proving his status as a Magician of the Chaotic flame as well, an art of power in contrast to his natural call of green.<br />Juan shock his head, watching his brother, then tossed both his booted feet upon the table.<br />"I ask a favor of you brother" Vian slowly spoke, his voice soft as always, his hands trembling lightly, making Juan raise an eyebrow in question, for it was nothing his brother normally would do, tremble.<br />"An' wha' tha be?" Juan slowly asked and grabbed the glass as it was placed upon his table, emptying it.<br />"I need you… to seduce a girl, and steal something from her" Vian smirked lightly "Something you should be able to do" Juan shrugged at his brother "An' wha' ei ei'm suppos'd to be steal'n eh?" "A stone, actually, the piece of a stone" "Tha' stone eh?" "Yes… That stone… I found a girl who is in possession of it" Juan glared at Vian "And why ye ein't be doin tha' yerself eh?" Vian shock his head "I can't… It's… complicated" Juan laughed dearly, lifting up Vian's glass and emptying that as well "Ei be believin' me brother's been havin 'ne soft spot fur tha luv eh?" Vian sighed, shaking his head and stood up "She'll be accompanied by myself, we have a room at the Stalleon… Go find us there if you want to take the job. I'll pay you for it if needed" Juan shock his head "Ei'll be sein wha' kind o' girl she be, and if she be the kind ei don't be liking, then ei'll be doin tha for free" Vian nodded stood and walked towards the door. "Oh bro?" Juan said, making Vian stop at the doorway, looking over his shoulder "Yes?" "It'll be good sein yer again' What's it been? Ten o' years?" Vian just shrugged and left mumbling "Far too soon for my taste"Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-27385100275298659902008-10-03T02:49:00.000-07:002008-10-03T07:01:37.860-07:00The Ruler of The Clan. ((Ending of Gabriel))<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">The story of Gabriel Part 7</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">For Part 6, check this link</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><a href="http://aiflight.blogspot.com/2008/09/death-of-kindred.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://aiflight.blogspot.com/2008/09/death-of-kindred.html</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></strong></div><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong> </p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"> </p><div align="center"><br /></div></span></strong><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Nao Mc'Gregor M'var</span></strong><br /></span><br />They dragged in the burned, destroyed body of Gabriel and tossed him for the feet of his father. Nao, sitting in his high chair, reading in a book, he hardly payed attention to the man, nor the followers of his clan that had brought Gabriel. No, Nao had known already that this would happen, and he knew now what would be demanded of him.<br />"He attempted Suicide sir!" spoke Thomas slowly, Thomas, Narodimus's most trusted grunt, not a man Nao enjoyed the company of, but he always got the job done, and it was hard these days to find someone to get the job done.<br />Nao turned his head. Long, black hair hanging into his face, he snarled with his fangs showing, annoyed that they disturbed him, though he knew already they would. "You break silence for this? Leave us!" He waved a pale hand in front of his servants, his white body skeleton-like, for it was a while since anyone could recall watching Nao feast upon human blood.<br />His servants opened their mouth to protest at first, but Thomas stopped them, yes, Nao knew he would. Thomas… A name given to him when he had become a turned, a nights creature, a kindred. Nao hated these costumes, he had himself kept his name. Narodimus Mc'Gregor, first son of the M'var clan. He had kept that name no matter time, and he was no longer popular with that name, no, but he treasured it. These days, everyone was given new names, to forget their past.<br />He walked down from his chair, watching his servants leave and close the doors behind them. They were now alone in his hall. Ancient, roman in architecture, large and empty, dark and empty. High pillars standing 6 and 6 left and right side of the room.<br />"Gabriel… my child… why did you do this?" Nao's voice, deep and sad, his robes, bloody red and black creating a carpet around him. He kneels down to Gabriel's body and shakes his head again.<br />"Your disappointing me child." he softly caressed his hair, bowed down and kissed his forehead. Gabriel coughed lightly, opening his blue eyes, glancing at his father. He shook his head. "I will not crawl in the dust for you". Nao but pet him in pity. "An ignoring child you are indeed, why do you think I will force you to bow and crawl? Does any of my other servants bow and crawl? Does my children do that?" Gabriel cried now, tears of blood rolling down his wounded, burned face. "I have seen how your servants treat the weaker kindred, It is not you, but them I fear". Narodimus reached down, drying off a tear. "Please, Gabriel, Please. Do not fear what you do not know."<br />Gabriel closed his eyes "I Will not be one of your children, please. Set me free father" Nao nodded lightly and found his sword by his chair. "Of love, I release you then" and trusted the weapon into the heart of Gabriel, turning him to but a pile of dust. And then Nao returned to his chair, thoughtful for a moment, watching the dust pile on his floor, saddened. He waved his hand at the door as some force knocked on it to enter. The doors locked and he stood again from his chair.<br />Nao walked trough the hallways, levitating above the ground, towards a bowl standing on the other side of the room, near the locked doors.<br />His hands reached down, into the empty bowl, then he shock his head. "Empty… As my heart, you are as well empty".<br />He walked to the door as it was knocked upon one more time. "Yes yes, I bit you, wait for just a minute" And he turned the key, opening the door, looking upon the tall figure of his first child. Dorian M'var. The sight of the man returned the smile upon Nao's lips. For Dorian yet proved again that there still was children out, worried for their father.<br />"Greetings my son" he spoke and then wrapped an arm around the shoulders of Dorian. "Let us go for a hunt."</div>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-70737218447941914502008-09-26T05:18:00.000-07:002008-09-26T05:19:08.642-07:00A game I can not winPoetry, who doesn't love poetry.<br /><br /><br />If I died, would you even remember me?<br />And what would you remember?<br />The bad stuffs that were not meant to be?<br />Or the dance we did in December<br />What kind of dress would you bury me in?<br />Would it be white and hiding all the darkness?<br />Or black as the color of sin?<br />Whatever you do, please do it in happiness<br />My last words would be painful<br />Probably something that would hurt everyone<br />Never, can I remember anything joyful<br />With your arms around me all alone<br />I remember your trembling whisper<br />and Will remember it before I die<br />You told me that I'm not a looser<br />I do not believe what you had to say<br />Do you even care if I die?<br />Or do you just bury me in that white dress?<br />Do i get the chance to say goodbye?<br />to I get the chance to give you that last kiss?<br />Angel of darkness come to pinch at me<br />Lift me up with your big, black wings<br />Tell me that I was actually meant to be<br />That I was the one of whom they sing<br />Please little angel hold me close<br />Before you tell me that I am the one to loose....<br />This Is a game I can not win,<br />So I might as well not try<br />The angels have taken me for a spin<br />And I'm beginning to cry<br />I do not wish to leave you all like this<br />Yet, I can not decide<br />So goodbye I whisper in that last kiss<br />Before I disappear from your sight<br />Darkness pulls me with<br />Please remember me as I was<br />No fantasies or stories<br />I hope for you to leave me at least<br />Before these immaculate horrid<br />When death do Us part<br />You said one time<br />But yet, you left me without<br />Your passion that meant all to me<br />I am writing this as a goodbye<br />But please do not be angered<br />Promise me you will not cry<br />Or chose to kill in hatred<br />This Is a game I can not win. . .Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-75259753928639478052008-09-22T15:19:00.000-07:002008-10-03T06:54:09.689-07:00The death of a Kindred<div align="center">This is my first story on this blog, and therefore it is important to me that it is one of my favorite ones. I've worked hard on this story, just to get the right feel into it, the right.. mood so to speak. It might not be my best work, seen from the eyes of an outsider, but to me, it is at least very important, I ein't sure if it is my best story ever (I sure hope not since if it is, I might as well stop writing eh? ^^;) but it is surely a very personal, close story to me. The main character, and only character in this very short story, is a character I can really relate to, and you will probably notice later on, how Gabby here returns as a side character in my other artwork. Anyways. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.<br /><br />________________________________<br /><br /><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;">The death of a Kindred.</span></em></strong> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">The story of Gabriel, Part 6<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As my eyes stare around my holy sanctuary, this fallen church, I decide to leave my immortal life this morning. They named me a kindred, named me as one of their own, but I am not, call me a lunatic, laugh at me if you like, does not matter, assume that you are so much smarter than this broken lunatic, does not matter. I will rather die standing, than live on my knees, kissing their feet, they can not break me. I have decided to stay here, in this church and die before alter by the break of dawn; I have decided to bow down before the picture of Christ and burn by the break of dawn. What makes me and them different? Simple, they are dead, as me, but unlike them, I remember what happened, I remember my own death, yes, I felt the pain when death took my soul and left my body to rot, I remember how it felt when human blood ran trough my veins the first time, trust me, you would be mad too.<br />It is getting cold inside the church, so very cold; it seems as if I can not bear it. My pale arms move their way about my skinny body until they entwine at the base of my pelvic bone. I gasp, holding my stomach, as if I am pregnant. I am pregnant, carrying some alien virus inside my body. In a way, that is what they have created: a monster. A monster out of me no less, inside of myself; to devour my tiny, little self; and manifest inside my body. It is the evil my whole race has created, so cruelly, this will surely swallow me whole, I feel it, I know it is there, breathing.<br />I sink to the floor, the thin limbs locked together, I winch once more. The pain is overshadowing the cold that has taken me to an even overwhelming state. This beast of their making will be born if I do not die this night, conceived of my own loving heart, something they all seem to forget to give me, emotions that was pushed away from me, allowed me to be this abandoned child, forced to turn into a monster. But I am nothing more than a puzzle waiting to be put together.<br />I cry in the mists of a full moon, I pray and hunt alone, outside their reach, without their hate nor their help.<br />My body fold down before the alter, folding my hands, my fingers holding each other, as a statue of the virgin mother praying towards the father of her son Jesus.<br />”I am Gabriel”<br />I can hear my own voice whisper as a greeting towards the alter<br />“Forgive me father, for I have sinned, I have not prayed for two hundred and fifty six years now, I have murdered and sinned, drunk the blood of the mortal ones, created in your image. I have cast away my family, killed my own mother from whose body which I was born. And I have murdered you father, I hold now the monster that they all wish to unleash, but also here, I must defile my brethrens and kill this being within my own torso.”<br />I watch the priest hang on the cross, I killed him and placed him upon this symbol of god, gave him the death of Jesus, gave him the death that he must have wished for. Hanging like Christ, I hope for him that his afterlife will be better than mine, for I will burn inside the Eternal Fire.<br />I get up standing once more, walk towards the window and place my pale finger down the glass, blood still run from my black jacket, and I run my finger down into it. Watch a finger, sliding down the window, writing in blood, against the dusty, old windows, this abandoned church seems so cold, yet it has become my sanctuary.<br /><br />This place is an immaculate Eden, for the chosen ones to keep them prison, I can’t stay here anymore, the heavens doors have closed for me and God is outraged. The church bells scream madly in the distance, as if to tell me, “Heaven is gone”. Blessed white angels come to pinch and peek at me.<br />Angels are nipping at me.<br />HELP<br /><br />I write it down on the window, a message for my fellow kindred when they come to find me. I hope they will notice all of this, this fine spectacle I have made for them. I smirk by the sight, grin as I see all this mess, the dead priest handing on the cross, bloody letters on the floor, writing<br />G A B R I E L, to tell them that this is my fine artwork. My phone rings to tell me, one hour before dawn, one hour before the first ray of sun.<br />I bow down once more before the alter, silently whisper out towards the dead priest.<br />“Forgive me father, for I have sinned…”<br />I pray in Latin now, the language of god, hope for him to hear me, whish only for him to answer and say “I forgive you”<br />But he does not. Dawn breaks trough the windows and I feel the horrible pain of flames licking my entire body. I hold my arms around myself; I kiss my fingers goodbye, and hope for a better life.<br />I feel as if God himself stare down upon me, and He wants his shadow to overwhelm me, but only has the opposite effect. I feel so; I do not even have words to express the feelings I feel at this second. I am so petrified, that I have to back away from the sun. Until the flames consume me, and I die... Alone.</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div>Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2772064967982767275.post-19163178323833600792008-09-22T14:35:00.000-07:002008-11-02T03:49:10.418-08:00Angels in flight, bring us a sanctuary, my sanctuary, where fear and lies melt away.Exactly. Angels in flight is my blog, and it will be a place where I hide all my written work. Anyone who reads it and takes interest in my short stories, well you are allowed to enjoy my work, and you are allowed to comment it, but it is all my work, my heart and my soul, and I won't take lightly on copying of my work and calling it your own, it is my love, my children, my inner thoughts, and some of it is really personal, while some is not, but it is all my work and my babies.<br />If you wish to do some art for me, fanart of characters or setting, I would love that and I always accept that gladly, as well as fanstories.<br /><br />If you want to post your own poetry or shortstories, please, go ahead and poke me with it, I would love to have some other art than my own here as well.<br />Anyways.<br />This is a little about my sanctuary.<br /><br />Angels in flight... Why that name?<br />First of all, angels... I am extremely fond of angels and you might notice that trough my work, angels are a passion and hold a certain, important place in my heart. I am not fanatical in religion, I simply enjoy the myth of angels, may it be from any religion, because all religions have their saviors.<br />Anywho.<br />The line itself "Angels in flight, bring us a sanctuary, my sanctuary, where fear and lies melt away." is from Kingdoms hearts 2, deep dive. My teachers always tought me how quotes makes you seem more powerful, why use your own words when someone's said it for you, and might have more credability than you...? I don't believe those words, I am sure my own words is just as fine as someone elses... Then why use a quote for my first post? Simple... I like that line. And that is the only reason why, so it is not a question of credability, or an attempt to seem fancy, I just like to line and would like to share it with someone else.<br /><br />Anywho.<br /><br />A bit about myself.<br />I'm a young lass from a small european country with lots of candy and lakes. Also known as Denmark. I study at the moment, and when I am not studying, I read at home, or write. My life's been like any others, I believe nothing is strange there, loving parents and a sweet little brother. I enjoy writing, it is my greatest passion, and I hope one day to actually write a book. the whole manuscript of a book, and get it published of course.<br />Because I am from Denmark, some of my stories will be in Danish, most in english, and some of my poetry in German as well. I believe language has it's own meaning depending on country, and also its own emotions, and feelings. Lovestories are better in English than in German as I see it, and funny stories are sometimes better in Danish than English, where the German is perfect for something serious.<br />well.<br />I love my dogs almost as much as I love writing. Cairn's both of them. They run around, run and run and run, and you can't stop them even if you try.<br />My favorite color eh?<br />Might be.. pink.<br />Ye it's very possibly pink.<br />I play a little World of Warcraft, but I am cutting down, I spend too much time playing and it's starting to be boring.<br />Anywho<br />That's not really who I am, that is simple factors giving you an idea of my life, but who am I really? I can not tell you in simple words, You must read my art in order to fully understand the concept of who I am.<br />For now.<br />Toddles.Cecilie Nemethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06885105206074311105noreply@blogger.com0