eff' that, i'll take fifty! - 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: eff' that, i'll take fifty! (/showthread.php?tid=2390) |
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- Anselm de le Poer - 06-25-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 06-26-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;">
Very interesting way of going about these things. ;D It definitely got my attention. Let me know if I got some of the layout wrong/Poe isn't actually so suitable. x] In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
She could say that chasing ghosts was just in her blood, but that would suggest that it this wasn't just the nature of any sentient being. Reaching for the faces, spaces and egos that had risen and fallen over the course of a lifetime, and had no intention, no way of coming back. Because you could always have a purpose if your goal is impossible, and no one truly wants to have a free spirit when that means there is no hope of return.It was a black hole that she believed herself to have kept out of in her adult life, and perhaps she had come close to holding that truth before the man made of nightmares crawled into her dreams and showed her his heart. She could see her mother's face behind her own when she woke up from an overextended, underwhelming slumber, and there was more horror there than in her own calm reactions to the nights that spun out tales of blood, incest and tears. So she had spent the night on the rocky coast with a bottle of wine and some poorly rolled cigarettes, watching the storms stir up the ocean and tasting the salty spray of the broken waves it cast in her direction. It was the softened weather and empty bottle that had taken her back to the city that she knew as home now, and her avoidance that guided her into the old apartment building and down the path of disturbed dust and a live scent. She had only been half aware of the track that she was purposefully following, her mind hazed over by too much drink, too little sleep, and an unarguable core urge to find a beating heart in this abandoned city. Until she came to the edge of the first apartment building's rooftop of course, when whimfull steps could only take her down several stories to the narrow strip of pavement below. Her gaze lifted to the landscape that she had inadvertently taken. The clear sky cast a warm, easy light over the rotten and re-grown rooftops that swelled green from the recent rains. It shook some life back into her limbs, and with a reawakening mind, she made the leap from one building to the next, and continued with soft, solid steps across the second roof to its abrupt end, casting her shadow alongside the sought-after stranger's figure. All heavy hanging bangs and salt stained dressed, the small, dark girl looked down at him from the edge. [/html] - Anselm de le Poer - 06-27-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 06-27-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;">
Not that I know of! -groundbreakers!?- In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
His gaze shifted and turned to find her, and the upside-down profile of his face came into view between heavy, warrior shoulders. His eyes were the same bloody hue as Ahren's, and her heart snagged and lingered there momentarily. She had entangled herself with Ahren once on a night not unlike the last, and he had pulled her from another sorrow that she had denied (such a child, playing make-believe again and again!). But this copper and golden luperci was not her blonde anti-hero, and with this in mind, she pushed away from such considerations that may had led her to sketch out a genetic line between the two rugged-handsome men.It was a task that this wolf inadvertently aided her in as he squinted and frowned, trying to smear her image like wet paint on an invisible canvas. So, his hazy gaze hadn't merely been a product of his own sleepless night--he was right out of his mind (or on a load of drugs, of course). An amused grin pulled the corners of her lips despite her tight-lipped attempt to refrain. But it was no use, and by the time that he was mumbling a calmly considering noise, a throaty giggle had bubbled up to the audible surface, and her pearly whites bared a wide smile, tilted a little with the turn of her head--a prime picture of the Cheshire Cat. She backed away from the broken floor's edge then, and with softer, cared-for steps, she found the ladder to the inhabited level. There, the couch and its passenger appeared illuminated in the sunlight that divided the dust-dimmed, shadowy half-room from the outdoors. Moth-like in her simplisticity, the dark girl walked pointedly for this beacon of light and company. Poe had never been one to pay any mind to reservations, or even common courtosies in the animal kingdom that they still, supposedly, belonged to. Her argument could have been easily presented here and now, between the sky-high male lounging on an old couch, and her own half-drunk swagger outlined by what was likely some girl's prom dress once upon a time. Tight and shaped from chest to hip, then billowing out in a great, pink crinoline glory that ended abruptly at the knees, it way anything but suitable for the world that they had not so long ago evolved beyond. With the casual gait and easy slump of shoulders that might be expected from an old friend, the small lady sat on a couch arm and smiled at Anslem. He was larger in build than she had gauged from above, and despite his inebriated state, he seemed to have that inborn understanding of his own body and its movements that came from any kind of physical training. He also carried a pack scent, a steady home that clung to his fur the way that the sea salt currently stuck to her own, but true to her lone wolf ways, she was unfamiliar and disregarding of the details the smells could have told her. So he remained a pleasant mystery to her even from face to face. "Hola," she broke the silence, the first barrier, and nudged her head to the right to push the heavy side of her bangs out of the way. They steadily slid back to their original place, and half hid the casually direct gaze that searched his face and settled back onto his eyes. [/html] - Anselm de le Poer - 07-01-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 07-11-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;">
Pardon the delay. My laptop hasn't been working at my cottage, so I've had to borrow someone else's now. I'll be back to regular posting soon, though. :] In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
It was all about angles, levels and tints, these egos that shaped the lands and the bodies that tred it. While Anslem lived so close to the conflict between wolf and coyote that he could smell the bad blood as it boiled and steamed, Poe’s worldly idealism and unconventional life between concrete and ocean distracted her senses with anything but. Seemingly impossibly, she had caught only the softest breeze of the discrimination that painted lines across this (and the last) landscape, despite the violent having torn her own flesh once. The fundamental concepts were so foreign to her eclectic experiences that it would sound laughable to have it presented to her at this point in her life. But then again, Poe D’Angelo laughed for many reasons, so perhaps it would be less telling that it might seem/The stoned tough-guy was seemingly fascinated by her dress, and Poe replied with an equally blatant interest in his physical features; the details of his marking, the curve of his lower eyelid, cradling gasping pupils as he looked closer at the pink fabric, and the way the muscles in his face pinched and pulled when she spoke. His hesitancy was explained as he pushed out a few basic words in Spanish off of his tongue, landing in the lap of her dress. She grinned with open amusement, mellowed by a wedge of nostalgia and simple appreciation for even the small, broken piece of one of those romance languages that she had strolled amongst too briefly, but so vividly. ”Ah, señor, this old thing? Just a party dress I found in a pile of memories and high heeled shoes,” she chimed back in a warm, rolling tone that came from too little sleep, a little alcohol and a great, subdued interest in dancing with this quirky, serendipitous moment of time in a secret city nook. [/html] - Anselm de le Poer - 07-13-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 07-22-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;"> In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
She watched his body move between the fingers of an assortment of drugs that she couldn't name if she tried, but understood from arm's length. Intoxicants of every and any sort had drawn thick, colourful lines and designs down the timeline of her life, from a pothead mother and her rock star lover, to a band of hippiesque werewolves that partnered with several substances amongst their dances across history, music and the stars that they followed. They had taken her halfway from hell to home, teaching and showing her the surrealist, river-flow lifestyle that remained a strong influence on her life today. But it had been the music, the blue fiddle and the man with nimble fingers that had lifted her feet off the ground, not the drugs.Still, they held a kind of magic that she felt a complexity-distanced fondness for, if only because she had not spent the time later in her life understanding it, the way she had many other natural magics. When she took her fill of the stranger-man's face and shoulders, chest and hands, she turned her attention to his bottle and bag, and with it, this incomplete understanding of the substance he was riding high on. He too changed his focus of attention on the same beat, and after one of silence, she asked outright, "What fairy dust are you flying by on today?" Her gold dusted eyes flicked up to meet his again, always outstretching a line of easy, precise eye contact when she spoke to him. Building bridges, reaching for a connection. [/html] - Anselm de le Poer - 07-26-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 08-01-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;"> -ramble bramble- In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
Nature didn't like to make things easy. Quick fixes always came with catches, and there was never a win-win, let alone a black and a white. To feed an addiction, to get instant pleasure, meant notching a day off of the long-term story. Health, mental, physical, emotional, one or more would pay for all of their fixes, but oh-so often, those bandaids were what got someone by and gave any hope of seeing that bigger picture, even if it was being shaved down by the day. Everyone had something worthless that they clung to for that reason, when it came down to it. Drugs were just the tip of the iceberg--power, love, wealth, sex--there was something for everyone out there. There was a nature, and instinct to it. And those were just the kinds of instincts that Poe trusted in the most, these days. The ones that kept your heart alight, sometimes in in exchange for basic survival. More than sometimes.The wine still stained and flavoured her tongue, trickled in her veins and softened her muscles, but the coyote's broad collection of intoxicants piqued her interest, and she listened to their explanations one by one with patient interest. Marijuana very distinctly reminded her of her mother, and in one way or another, had never really agreed with her all that well. It slowed her down, fogged her brain, muffling her innate need for movement, beats, and attention to the senses. The hallucinogens were the choice from that summer long-passed now, eye-openers that made her see the music beating in the pulse of her companions and let her draw the constellations they showed her on the flesh of a lover. But she had been led through them by knowledgeable guides that steered her away from the pits that she saw a few fall into, and the warning that came with this dusted meat caused her to waver and thoroughly consider his final offer. Good old booze, a staple addiction in her life that, given more time than she was likely to offer, would likely be the end of her. Certainly the easiest one to reach for, but easy had not been the focus of her last handful of hours. She craved something that would jog her brain, shake her up, launch her away from the patterns she had worn so deep and recent events suggested that maybe, she couldn't get out of with the edge just out of reach. "Well, if you insist," she purred, just as her overgrown bangs swung out to cover the right side of her face. She pushed her rear off of the couch's arm and into the lap of the cushion next to Anslem, facing him and the backrest with crossed legs that pushed her fanciful skirt out in every direction, just like the spinning fairytale urban princess that she made a mockery of. From there, she reached over and took the second piece of meat that he had explained, and brought it near to examine it, aware of how vague her understanding of a proper dose really was. She was a disturbingly small luperci, and if it were designed for the likes of this bulked-up boy, a small portion seemed reasonable, and that was what she took. The rabbit flesh overruled the taste of the drugs, and the lot of it dropped down her throat with a pleasant weight and texture that she had grown less familiar with in her heavily seafood dietary lifestyle. She returned the rest of the meat to him with a double lip of her lips, a quick suck of her thumb and a cheeky little smile, "The kindness of drug-bearing strangers," she said with a pleased note of humour, refocusing on his face with a distant anticipation of the oncoming effects. "So what are you doing out here?" she asked, leaning her weight into one locked arm connecting to the boney edge of the couch. "Hanging out in beautiful and remote piles of rubble, coming at oblivion from a few angles at once--it's not something I find here everyday. And trust me, I do look every day." It was definitely an unusual state and place to find someone so comfortable, and her never-ceasing curiosity with others' whys gravitated onto people like this. [/html] - Anselm de le Poer - 08-05-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 08-07-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;"> Mlld power-play? Let me know if it needs adjusting. In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
Movement and body came as a first language to the danciing city urchin, far broader and more practical than any language that came from the lips and only really rivaled by the language of music by her standards. Body language, gestures, glances, twitches and touches told of much more than the words Poe chose, and she believed herself to understand (although not always consciously) those of others' with more clarity than any conversation might offer her. Perhaps it was the animal that still lived somewhere behind the crinoline and ribbons, prowling around in an everyday that tried so defiantly to deny such a nature. Because it certainly did take charge of these times that she crossed paths with another, and spoke with a louder voice and listened with larger eyes the deeper things progressed.Like polar magnets when they were brought within range, it seemed that the instant Poe sat herself to the hybrid's side, there was a distinct pull that neither of them were fighting against. He fidgeted his way closer, and she leaned onto an arm, propped next to his knee and slinging her torso, shoulder to hip, towards his side of the couch. And behind lazy eyelids and heavy eyelashes, she followed the story that his body offered to tell her as he thought and spoke, and slowly, slowly came closer. The back of her mind noted his scent and the warmth that radiated from his large body, creeping up by fractions of degrees as they neared. He moved comfortably in his own skin, comfortable in this secret edge between many worlds that she had sleepwalked to. The place, the sights, the company and conversation had a distinctly dream-like quality to it, and in a briefly touched moment of humour, Poe noted that it was more dream-like than the real dreams that she had recently been chasing after. Except for the simple fact that nothing would crumble away with a wrong move, with a single touch. To prove this to herself, she brought her free hand to the hybrid's knee, pushing dark, fine fingers in trails through the mottled-golden fur halfway up his thigh and then smoothing it back down while considering his words. Her gaze fell to scan the slightly ruffled tracks that remained, and she used her thumb to smooth only one of them down entirely. "Secret gardens always call in fairies, though," she said, flicking her gaze back up to him with the impish smile she often wore. "It doesn't mean that it's any less of a secret, though," she said in a low, mischievously assuring tone of voice. Truthfully though, she then marked this as a place she would not take someone else, or very likely even speak of. Places of precipice were delicate and precious, and she thought that her companion just might need something beautiful all for himself. [/html] - Anselm de le Poer - 08-07-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 08-15-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;"> In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
She could imagine, and would soon begin to believe she could see the toxins dancing through his veins, licking and disorienting the cells that belonged there, making them dance and spin and fall over laughing, laughing, laughing. These drugs put a body into hysterics while romancing the mind contained within, and painted chaos across walls both inner and outer. It offered a strange thrill, seeing this large, sturdy body surrender to the throws of invisible chemicals, eyes wandering and body softened, melted into the embrace of the old couch in the middle of a half-and-half landscape that could have come out of a Dali painting, it was so contradictory to expectations. Even before the drugs could sink little fingers into her own petite body, she felt the scene awakening her tired body, her worn out mind, whispering the beginnings of a new story, read out in the body-language of this unnamed companion. I liked his vibes, she thought, hearing her inner voice echo from a growing distance, I like his stories. She smiled softly to herself, and then brought her gaze back to Anslem to scout out his state of mind. Her surprise to his look of outright embarassment only conjured a slight, slow raise of her eyebrows and a glance to follow his. Down to--oh my, down to a very attentive soldier, indeed.She couldn't contain a low, almost sultry laugh, even when she bit her lower lip and rather reluctantly withdrew her gaze from his crotch, returning to his replying gaze. Any residual toughness that she had senses in him before had become obsolete right then, and she reached a hand up to touch his cheek softly, assuringly, as her laughter bubbled lower into her chest and then was swallowed up entirely. "My, my," she purred, stroking the fur across his cheek back, and following the grain down the side of his neck and to his shoulder, using it to balance her as she rose up onto her knees. "Those drugs have some rousing side-effects, don't they?" she asked sweetly from behind a half-curtain of pitch black hair, giving clear glances of him here and there with the sway of her movements. A leg stretched slowly and surely across the golden canine's lap to anchor her knees on either side while dragging the silky and crinkled material of her prom dress with her, covering him along the way. There, knelt close enough to nearly touch nose to nose when she turned her face up to his, eyelashes slung low and nonchalant. "Now look at that," she said lightly, leaning her body subtly closer to his while maintaining a steady gaze on his face. "My magical dress made it disappear," she said in a lower tone, arching her lower back towards him only far enough to make it evident that it was still ever so present. [/html] - Anselm de le Poer - 08-16-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 08-21-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;"> Ohman, so very. xD I wish we could make post-accompanying musical tracks. I want some 80's porno music. In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
Sex, drugs--all they needed was a bit of rock and roll to make this sunny, unassuming afternoon ridden with rockstar indulgence and sin. It was just the kind of recklessness that she craved right then, increasingly so in the presence of this unnamed stranger. He could have been the devil himself for all of her best guesses, offering her an escapes from the predicament that had kept her sullen and sleepless the night before, and perhaps that was what she would take from him regardless of who he truly was or what he actually offered.But oh, not so quickly, not so simply. As the drugs ebbed into the periphery of her heavy-locked stare, Poe rested her weight into the broad hand that pleaded against her lower back, belying the noisy thuds of her heart, the quick pulse drumming out a beat under golden hands. She would hold out on him, tease him with hips and hands and gritty words before succumbing to growing desires. This encounter was a game, a test of the endurance of reality bleeding into intoxication into other-worldliness. Like a bold little kid in a candy shop, Poe played an indulged, like a drugged up game of sexual trick-or-treat that only became more fervent and greedy as the sugar high built up and up. Until it was all too far and she could only dive off right off the edge, leaving a trail brilliant, colourful shapes beating out shapes and breaths in her wake, and leaving her melted against the couch cushions that she had come to perch on in the beginning. Broad pupils and soft curves, Poe lay in a crumpled pile of billowed dress and dirty pillows, absolutely content in any and all respects as her eyes wandered, followed the trails that she could have sworn she had sent into the blue sky. Her legs were folded up, resting along the side of Anslem's closest thigh, while her arms stretched and splayed out to her side and over her head. A few slow, steady bows of her eyelids counted out a deep breath, in and out, before resting shut for a mirrored length. [/html] - Anselm de le Poer - 08-24-2008 [html]
- Poe D'Angelo - 09-30-2008 [html] http://i25.tinypic.com/jizx5d.png); background-position:top; background-repeat: repeat-y; width: 500px;"> Late to the extreme. D: Sorry. In a tower of steel Nature forges a deal To raise wonderful hell
Her breath moved and sounded like a wave to her, rolling in and pouring into the deepest nooks and crannies of her lungs, then slowly flowing back out from top to bottom. It was soothing in the warm wake of a physical thrill, and quite possibly could have put her to sleep next to the mystery magic man with the fairy dust and strong arms. But when her eyes tested this reverie, a cinnamon sheen began to trickle over her view, leaving a tint even when her eyes opened and searched the broken ceiling and sky. The ghost remained, but she soon found that the living glowed despite. Gloriously golden and seemingly at peace, his touch carried words that neither of them spoke, but cradled contently between each other. They had shared something unique for all that they had not shared. A dark little Cinderella story that was striking twelve now, with the too-real ghosts coming to take her slippers and coach.With that unexplained, unhesitating fairytale timing, Poe rose up in the sea of billowing crinoline, and stretched a hand out to the golden knight's cheek to pull her muzzle to the other side of his. Only small, lingering kiss was left there before she lifted herself with a broken ballerina's lazy-legged grace and began for the ladder that had taken her into these beautifully bizarre depths. There was no goodbye, no request for a later or again, nor any hint to the future. All in the same fashion that had consumed their bodies moments earlier, and that which she had become peculiarly familiar with and trusting in over her years.That betrayed her in the secret home that she would soon return to when Anslem's warmth had been stolen by the barren streets. At the bottom of the stairs, Poe turned again to look at Anslem and, like a last sip of a warm drink, she waved a single dark hand and crinkled her eyes in a smile before creeping out of the distorted sanctuary. [/html] |