01-24-2009, 02:07 PM
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Don't get snowed in another state for longer than you planned. It messes up all your plans for the entire week. Sorry for the wait, thanks for joining! I'm going to play like your character hasn't quite come into view yet because that's what it sounded like to me. I can edit if need be. 
The guitar's warm, metallic voice carried on into the darkness even though Maddie didn't sing aloud anymore. The words floated on internally instead--one might never know it was a sad song just hearing the upbeat tempo of the guitar riff as it was played now. Her fingers played almost automatically, having memorized their role in the music, and so the amber eyes were allowed to go out of focus. The flickering light of the fire came through the holes in the straw cowboy hat, like the fires of the desert. The obsidian woman shivered further into the blanket.
She was there a long while, playing and feeling sorry for herself. The world ceased to exist around her for that time, until the breeze turned to blow the smoke in another direction. That was when her sense of smell was unclouded for the briefest of moments, just enough to catch a whiff of somebody else. A charcoal nose twitched on the end of her muzzle in an attempt to identify the location of the "somebody" before everything was clogged in campfire again. Unsuccessful, she grumbled to herself, "Dud'n matter a dern thang." It wasn't like she was going to be finding friends out here. She wanted to be... deserved to be left alone.
But her body had tensed, ready for confrontation with someone who might throw her off their lawn or act like some other varmint. If they wanted to fight her, she give 'em a hard time--Madison was larger and a little more rugged than most females. Even though the Feh'yuri Tribe had been primarily Mexican-mixes, she'd been the only dark one. The European Luperci of Vegas learned quickly not to pick fights with The Black One or while she was around. She didn't always win, but she fought dirty. So, instead, they had contented themselves with behind-the-back jibes about her preoccupation with those square things--small ones going inside something and large black circles coming out of the big ones--that she manipulated into making music. Madison Square.
Let 'em come, she thought bitterly.
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The guitar's warm, metallic voice carried on into the darkness even though Maddie didn't sing aloud anymore. The words floated on internally instead--one might never know it was a sad song just hearing the upbeat tempo of the guitar riff as it was played now. Her fingers played almost automatically, having memorized their role in the music, and so the amber eyes were allowed to go out of focus. The flickering light of the fire came through the holes in the straw cowboy hat, like the fires of the desert. The obsidian woman shivered further into the blanket.
She was there a long while, playing and feeling sorry for herself. The world ceased to exist around her for that time, until the breeze turned to blow the smoke in another direction. That was when her sense of smell was unclouded for the briefest of moments, just enough to catch a whiff of somebody else. A charcoal nose twitched on the end of her muzzle in an attempt to identify the location of the "somebody" before everything was clogged in campfire again. Unsuccessful, she grumbled to herself, "Dud'n matter a dern thang." It wasn't like she was going to be finding friends out here. She wanted to be... deserved to be left alone.
But her body had tensed, ready for confrontation with someone who might throw her off their lawn or act like some other varmint. If they wanted to fight her, she give 'em a hard time--Madison was larger and a little more rugged than most females. Even though the Feh'yuri Tribe had been primarily Mexican-mixes, she'd been the only dark one. The European Luperci of Vegas learned quickly not to pick fights with The Black One or while she was around. She didn't always win, but she fought dirty. So, instead, they had contented themselves with behind-the-back jibes about her preoccupation with those square things--small ones going inside something and large black circles coming out of the big ones--that she manipulated into making music. Madison Square.
Let 'em come, she thought bitterly.