Acca Larentia - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: Acca Larentia (/showthread.php?tid=17278) |
- Alaine Winters - 04-28-2011 [html] Word Count → 3+ Once again, her world had darkened.
.aw-trinity {margin:0px auto;width:450px;background-color:transparent;background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/EN9ZX.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom;border:none;padding:0px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:12px;line-height:16px;text-align:justify;margin-top:10px;} .aw-trinity .ooc {font-style:italic;font-size:11px;line-height:15px;text-align:left;margin:2px;text-indent:0px;} .aw-trinity .ooc b {font-weight:bold;font-style:normal;} .aw-trinity .divider {border-bottom:1px solid;} .aw-trinity p {text-indent:20px;margin:0px;padding:5px 10px;} .aw-trinity b {font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:1px;} .aw-trinity i {font-style:italic;letter-spacing:1px;} .aw-trinity u {font-style:italic;text-decoration:none;font-variantmall-caps;border-bottom:1px dotted;letter-spacing:1px;} </style>[/html] - Elijah Winters - 04-28-2011 [html] wc: 398
<style type="text/css"> The confrontation had been a turning point for Elijah. He had never seen any adult speak or act the way the two who had come for his mother had. Even Elvira, for all her cruelty, had never used such aggression. For once, he had been proud of his sister for being so bold—and even prouder of himself for standing up to the monster with the blue eyes. Yet those faces were fast fading, leaving only grotesque fantasies in their place in his memory. Elijah believed in monsters, most certainly, but he would have fought them both for his mother. Since that day too, he had begun to change, however slightly. A degree of possessiveness began to show in his quickly growing body. He now growled if Elvira tried to bite at his bandana. Distrust was not a word he fully understood, nor did he practice it. Strangers were still potential friends, but he had begun to identify body language and recognize the different between someone who was nice and someone who was not. So while he did not fear, he watched. This odd behavior, this stillness, it unnerved many. But often, too, he lost himself in the world of imagination. Sometimes the fantasy changed, but he always returned to the first because it was his favorite. Strong in body and colored like fire, he stampeded through the grass with massive hooves and a beautiful mane, a stallion who was uncontrollable even by his big-brother with the yellow eyes. Of course, even stallions have to answer to their mother’s. This was why, as the animal paraded through the grass, he turned suddenly and sharply and galloped towards the call that always had the power to summon him. What emerged from the brilliant emerald was not a stallion, as he so often pretended to be, but a puppy still fat from youth and awkward from lack of understanding. His desert-sky eyes were wide and a broad smile had carved itself across his face, displaying pink tongue and sharp white baby teeth to his mother. No malice lived within him, so this was not a terrible thing. A white-tipped tail wagged furiously as he approached, trotting up to her with his head high and his face all smiles; this too echoed on his bandana, forever smiling, forever happy, even if shadows and monsters came for the boy that wore it. .melijah_band01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .melijah_band01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .melijah_band01 p {text-indent:15px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .melijah_band01 {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(); background-position:bottom right; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; line-height:12px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style> - Alaine Winters - 04-28-2011 [html] Word Count → 3+ Perhaps the boy would not seem so odd if he had been able to communicate the wondrous and fantastical imaginations of his mind. All children were capable of creating fictional stories and games for themselves, but most could proudly voice to their guardians that they were a stallion, galloping wild and free.
.aw-trinity {margin:0px auto;width:450px;background-color:transparent;background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/EN9ZX.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom;border:none;padding:0px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:12px;line-height:16px;text-align:justify;margin-top:10px;} .aw-trinity .ooc {font-style:italic;font-size:11px;line-height:15px;text-align:left;margin:2px;text-indent:0px;} .aw-trinity .ooc b {font-weight:bold;font-style:normal;} .aw-trinity .divider {border-bottom:1px solid;} .aw-trinity p {text-indent:20px;margin:0px;padding:5px 10px;} .aw-trinity b {font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:1px;} .aw-trinity i {font-style:italic;letter-spacing:1px;} .aw-trinity u {font-style:italic;text-decoration:none;font-variantmall-caps;border-bottom:1px dotted;letter-spacing:1px;} </style>[/html] - Elijah Winters - 04-29-2011 [html] It had never occurred to Elijah that communication was his barrier. He had been called stupid by his sister on more than one occasion, but stupid was just a word to him. It meant nothing. What mattered was the way his mother looked at him, with her odd inverse eyes, and the way her face always looked both happy and sad to see him. Simple as he was, Elijah was anything but stupid—he was just different, in his own way. Silent, observant, and even in his pretty mother’s eyes, Wrong. She had become different since the day the monsters had come and he had spoken, and now it seemed all she wanted was to hear his voice. Though unconfident with his ability to communicate what he so vividly saw and felt within himself. His world was vastly different than that of his mother. Wide-eyed, he tilted his head at that unreal angle and closed his mouth. When it opened again, his voice (something still high and light because of his age) rolled forth. “Will you speak for me today? I can mamma,” he said, speaking slowly, carefully. “If you want.” He was not confident in this skill, and it showed. .melijah_band01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .melijah_band01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .melijah_band01 p {text-indent:15px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .melijah_band01 {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(); background-position:bottom right; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; line-height:12px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style> - Alaine Winters - 05-01-2011 [html] Word Count → 3+ He was a well-behaved boy, and she had that to thank Morrigan for. Docile and generally meek, but so simple that it pained her. Alaine, as with most others, was incapable of seeing the genius that existed within the Winters boy, deep behind that plastic smile and the mask of his father, the RavenKing Gabriel. It plucked at her heart to see such a visible connection to his father - Not enough, apparently, for any other to have made the connection but for Ezekiel and the vicious harlot Talitha. Her children remained safe, in spite of the world that railed against them for all their unnaturalness. She was the manifestation of devotion, after all, and would gladly have died for them both, in spite of the weakness of her love for the hellion Elvira.
.aw-trinity {margin:0px auto;width:450px;background-color:transparent;background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/EN9ZX.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom;border:none;padding:0px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:12px;line-height:16px;text-align:justify;margin-top:10px;} .aw-trinity .ooc {font-style:italic;font-size:11px;line-height:15px;text-align:left;margin:2px;text-indent:0px;} .aw-trinity .ooc b {font-weight:bold;font-style:normal;} .aw-trinity .divider {border-bottom:1px solid;} .aw-trinity p {text-indent:20px;margin:0px;padding:5px 10px;} .aw-trinity b {font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:1px;} .aw-trinity i {font-style:italic;letter-spacing:1px;} .aw-trinity u {font-style:italic;text-decoration:none;font-variantmall-caps;border-bottom:1px dotted;letter-spacing:1px;} </style>[/html] - Elijah Winters - 05-02-2011 [html] There were no signs of his obvious wolfish heritage yet, for the boy was still young. He lacked the ferocity of his sister’s gaze, her feral nature. Yet he was neither docile nor stupid—simply different. Years might pass before he was understood, but the boy was learning yet what it would take. Vocalization, for one, seemed to be an easy way of pleasing his mother. Furthermore, it gave him the ability to make others understand what his body tried so desperately to communicate. Each time his mother spoke, he saw the joy in her face and knew he had done right. She had been so sad for so long since that day with the monsters, and this sadness leeched into his heart from observation. The rise in his mother’s voice (its volume and not its tone, for he did not notice this change) made his tail wag behind him furiously. Oh, Nana he understood and Nana he loved. Mouth-wide and gaping, he let trembled all over at the idea of Nana seeing him use dog-words and not the horse ones he used around her. “Yes! I talk to Nana, mamma!” He meant this literally—he had spoken to the horse. Of course, an outsider might think him slow, repeating her words as a baby might. .melijah_band01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .melijah_band01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .melijah_band01 p {text-indent:15px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .melijah_band01 {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(); background-position:bottom right; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; line-height:12px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style> - Alaine Winters - 05-02-2011 [html] Word Count → 3+ She could see the cogs working, just barely, but was not wise enough to know that they ran far deeper into his subconscious. The Apothecary had never seen a child with the affliction of her son before - Had never even heard of one. The primitive knowledge she possessed was merely enough to note his erratic differences, his flaws and faults and unnaturalness. Perhaps a lesser mother might have shunned the child for that; They were, after all, beasts - Creature of flesh and sinew, not total civility. The urge for survival still ran in hot red blood.
.aw-trinity {margin:0px auto;width:450px;background-color:transparent;background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/EN9ZX.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom;border:none;padding:0px;font-family:Georgia;font-size:12px;line-height:16px;text-align:justify;margin-top:10px;} .aw-trinity .ooc {font-style:italic;font-size:11px;line-height:15px;text-align:left;margin:2px;text-indent:0px;} .aw-trinity .ooc b {font-weight:bold;font-style:normal;} .aw-trinity .divider {border-bottom:1px solid;} .aw-trinity p {text-indent:20px;margin:0px;padding:5px 10px;} .aw-trinity b {font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:1px;} .aw-trinity i {font-style:italic;letter-spacing:1px;} .aw-trinity u {font-style:italic;text-decoration:none;font-variantmall-caps;border-bottom:1px dotted;letter-spacing:1px;} </style>[/html] - Elijah Winters - 05-03-2011 [html] In many ways, Elijah was lucky he had been born to this woman and not another. His mannerisms and lack of development would have signaled the error in his mind and marked him as sick. More savage creatures, like his half-brother with the golden eyes, recognized this. Elijah was oblivious to such things, for he did not see himself as any different. He was too young to know, and too caught up in his fantasy world to care. Alaine’s reinforcement of his speech had taught him that it was expected, so he would do so for her. Yet as they headed to the stables, the transformation occurred as it always did when he made it into the tall grass. Stiff-legged, the boy began to frolic and jump to and fro, tossing his head and making those odd hybrid sounds neither dog nor horse. With a white-tip to bear as a marker, he plunged into the deepest shades of green and galloped onward. This was his favorite thing, and likely always would be. When he was a stallion, he was untouchable. When he was a stallion, he was king and the world was never cruel. .melijah_band01 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; } .melijah_band01 .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;} .melijah_band01 p {text-indent:15px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;} .melijah_band01 {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(); background-position:bottom right; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; line-height:12px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} </style> |