dated to tomorrow, please. here is the book she's reading. wc: 306 ....... She had thought about going back to Dahlia for a while, but had changed her mind as soon as she had left the university library. The hybrid that she had met there had been very interesting indeed, showing her different books until they found the perfect one together. There had been two copies of it, thankfully. The hybrid, Marik, had told her that this book would really help her out, and she planned on reading it once she got back to her pack. The morning was a nice one, crisp but not so chilly outside that the animals weren't out. It was around 30 degrees Farenheit, warm enough for the snow to start melting later in the day as it warmed up more. The yearling chose to sit on the front step of one of the bars that she had located rather than make the trip home, flipping through the pages of her book. One blue and one gold eye looked up every so often, wary of the city and of those who chose to stay in it like she was. The cover of the book read "Karamel Sultan", something that she didn't really understand, but the pictures explained it well enough. And there were some other recognizable words on the cover..."A new guide to the ancient arts of love". If she was going to get Hemming, she'd have to learn some of this stuff and learn it fast. Next time she would come prepared. Addi was just turning past the introduction to the book when she heard a sound. Her ears perked up and she stood quickly, taking small, quiet steps toward where she thought it had come from. There was a bag...she could see that. But who did it belong to? Not seeing anyone around she came slowly forward, reaching down toward it. |
Check My Brain
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01-02-2010, 05:03 AM
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01-05-2010, 08:45 PM
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http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb17 ... Angelo.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">Word Count: 410 Haku Soul had offered him insight, and for this, the D’Angelo was grateful. It showed him the truth of the world he was now a part of—that Tak’s hold did indeed reach far, and that he was not alone in knowing the truth of such demons. Now, though, his purpose was two-fold. In order to find his family, and to do what in his heart he knew was right, he had to survive the winter. With the makeshift home he had constructed for Misery now his own, there was more preparation needed still. Blankets, fire-making supplies, weapons and further tools in order to ensure he made it to the spring. On top of that, he needed not only to provide for himself, but for the still unnamed horse that was now his only companion. The Belgian was tethered not far from his current position, waiting with a patience that all draft horses carried. Larkspur himself had an almost unnatural patience—it was the only thing that had enabled him to survive the four long years he had lived in the Khalif. It was a useful skill, and one he prided far more then knowledge of human artifacts. That was why, after two hours, he was in the same store still trying to figure out what exactly he needed. While obvious supplies, like blankets, were easy to find and indentify, medicine was something that he had never really considered. Misery had always been his healer, and before then, he had not considered first aid outside of licking his wounds. But both he and the horse would need help if they were to make it through safely, and he intended to make sure this happened. Finally, after studying and smelling over a dozen medicine-type artifacts, he settled on taking two bottles, and then began making his way out of the store. It was then, with a great surprise, that he saw a girl reaching towards his faded army-surplus bag. Startled, and now feeling a sensation he had never felt before—something that made his muscles tense and his heart flutter, suddenly terrified she might take HIS bag—he rushed forward and grabbed her by the wrist. “What’r y’doin?” He barked, black to blonde hair falling around his face, making him look perhaps twice as crazy as he otherwise did—all black and orange and with peculiar runes carved into his forearms, and a singular stone entity hanging from around his neck. Table code and image © to Alaine
01-08-2010, 07:30 PM
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01-12-2010, 06:02 AM
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http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb17 ... Angelo.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">Word Count: 317 It didn’t matter that she had been stealing, for Larkspur was no more then a thief himself, but the fact it wasn’t someone else’s personal belongings but his own was wrong. He was not used to feeling possessive over any items, but now that he was alone there was nothing but the things he carried with him to keep him company. Even though he was used to isolation, he needed things to keep himself busy and to keep himself sane. That, of course, was relative. In the weeks since Misery had abandoned him, the voice of the can tah had slowly begun to grow louder. It was still barely above a whisper, but he could hear it more then he had that first day. That same voice whispered again, and his eyes turned inward, focusing on the sound above the high-pitched whine from the girl, now struggling in his grip. She was weak, as were all females, and she was young and inexperienced. If she twisted too hard, he would break her wrist. The can tah’s voice quieted and he slowly turned his focus back to the ginger girl, catching only the last outburst. As his eyes focused down on her, in a face scrunched with the ugly “I want” expression, a spoiled, pouting look he had seen in his cousins too many times before, he realized what the whisper had tried to tell him. Haku’s description of his…well, he wasn’t sure what she was to him, actually. Regardless, he knew who she was by the peculiar bicolor eyes and that streak of roan that set apart her otherwise dull, mousey fur. “Mah effects,” he pronounced sharply, pulling her closer to him with one solid jerk. “Ain’t you a bit far from home, Addison?” His lips pulled back in an ivory, yellowing smile. It was horrifying, as if the madman found the power of her name humorous. Table code and image © to Alaine
01-24-2010, 09:57 PM
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01-24-2010, 10:29 PM
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Word Count: 312 In Character
She was a ball of spitfire, but her strength was nowhere near his own. If he had wanted to, he could have snapped her wrist then and there. Larkspur had no intention of harming anyone, though, least of all the girl he had failed to find before. His orange eyes narrowed, sharpening as they studied her peculiar colors. They were unfamiliar to him—they did not belong to any of the D’Angelo lines he had ever seen. Still, he had no reason to doubt Haku Souls word, and he did not. This girl was his kin, by whatever means, and he intended to begin what he had been left here to do. The can tah whispered, and even though the girl was screaming about her pack, he could hear it. Still, the idea of Dahlia de Mai coming down on his head was a shallow threat. Her alpha had given him permission, and furthermore, make sure that Lark had understood that they were far from enemies when he left their land. “Stop fighting me,” he commanded, forcing his face to remain still, forcing himself to appear as least threatening as possible. He could not afford to break the girl’s trust so easily. “Haku told me yer name,” he explained, and wondered, suddenly, why she didn’t recognize the symbols on his arms. They would have explained everything, had she been able to read it. The girl was not a D’Angelo as he knew them, and once more, that whispering voice rushed in and warned him as it had when he had spoken to Haku. Though they shared blood, he could not trust her yet with all he had to speak. “M’name is Larkspur D’Angelo, I ain’t here to hurt you. Now calm down,” he added, and finally released her am, hoping desperately she would not spook and run as he expected her to. <style> .larkspur-002 p {padding:0px 20px 10px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:30px;} .larkspur-002 b {color:#DB9500;} .larkspur-002-separator {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; font-weight:bold; text-align:right; margin:0px 0px 2px 0px; color:#FFFF13; padding-right:20px;} .larkspur-002-ooc {font-family:arial, sans-serif; font-size:11px; letter-spacing:.4px; font-style:italic; } .larkspur-002 {background-color:#000000; padding:207px 0px 10px 0px; border:1px solid #000000; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/larkspur.jpg); background-position: top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; font-family:'book antiqua', 'bookman old style', georgia, serif; font-size:13px; color:#333333; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:2px; line-height:14px; width:400px; text-align:justify; } </style>[/html]
01-25-2010, 12:34 AM
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01-25-2010, 02:22 AM
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Word Count: 420. Sie made it. In Character
My, she was mouthy. He frowned, listening to her, and kept his Jack o’ Lantern eyes focused on her face. She was young and uneducated, and she responded only to things that kept her interest. It was like talking to a squirrel, the way she kept jabbering on. Flicking one ear as if the noise irritated him, the D’Angelo male cocked his head doggishly and stared at her face with the same sort of curiosity that one might have in regards to an unfamiliar and unwelcomed pest. Lifting one scarred, relic ridden arm to scratch at his neck, Larkspur spoke flatly. “Haku and I’r acquainted. I met him a few days ago,” he explained, though the concept of time was falling through his hands the more he found himself unable to sleep. It came and went, these peculiar instances, and he found them less daunting when the world so dark and the ini silent. The can tah would whisper, and it soothed him into a dream state where everything was calm, and safe. The dream catcher made sure of that. “He ain’t told me nothin’ except yer name. You weren’t around when we went lookin’ for ya, but here ya are so I guess that’s just how it goes.” He grinned then, an off white smile that looked remarkably peculiar because it was not friendly. It was the grin of a dead man, of a pumpkin’s cut up face, of a Cheshire cat and an unfriendly and wicked beast. Except he was not half so terrible as he looked, with his Halloween coat and his glyph ridden arms. He was a monster by his coat and by his breed, but it as his duty to maintain a sense of normalcy around those who would find him peculiar. The Khalif had not considered him anything less then evil, and Misery had gone to lengths to try and change him. She had made his arms the way they were, and she had bleached out the sections of his fur that were starting to grow out. Addison, he realized, had given him more then he needed. “Naniko? Who is she?” Though he was obviously interested, his voice remained level, hiding the excitement that perhaps she would be able to point him towards the next target of his education. There had to be more then one here, given that Misery had spoken so much on the matter. If he could find the rest of them soon, this would become very easy, and very quick. <style> .larkspur-002 p {padding:0px 20px 10px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:30px;} .larkspur-002 b {color:#DB9500;} .larkspur-002-separator {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; font-weight:bold; text-align:right; margin:0px 0px 2px 0px; color:#FFFF13; padding-right:20px;} .larkspur-002-ooc {font-family:arial, sans-serif; font-size:11px; letter-spacing:.4px; font-style:italic; } .larkspur-002 {background-color:#000000; padding:207px 0px 10px 0px; border:1px solid #000000; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/larkspur.jpg); background-position: top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; font-family:'book antiqua', 'bookman old style', georgia, serif; font-size:13px; color:#333333; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:2px; line-height:14px; width:400px; text-align:justify; } </style>[/html]
02-28-2010, 04:57 PM
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03-07-2010, 11:29 PM
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In Character
This girl, she did not consider herself bound to Dahlia. Such information only served to further his ambition—those without strong bonds to a singular place were weak. Truth be told, much of this could be said for Larkspur. He, however, had a separated and much more potent duty to uphold. No one, not even Dahlia de Mai’s leader, could sway him from that. Misery might have left him to his own devices, but Larkspur would follow what path he needed to in order to complete the task at hand. His young companion was not only free in spirit, but with her mouth as well. She began to talk, and boy did she talk. Naniko was the only D’Angelo around, and had children, and could write. The excitement was still hiding under the mask of placidity, but his eyes were burning as if a fire had been lit behind them. “I’m looking for my family,” he explained, but did not go further from this point. “Do you know where I can find her?” <style> .larkspur-002 p {padding:0px 20px 10px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:30px;} .larkspur-002 b {color:#DB9500;} .larkspur-002-separator {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; font-weight:bold; text-align:right; margin:0px 0px 2px 0px; color:#FFFF13; padding-right:20px;} .larkspur-002-ooc {font-family:arial, sans-serif; font-size:11px; letter-spacing:.4px; font-style:italic; } .larkspur-002 {background-color:#000000; padding:207px 0px 10px 0px; border:1px solid #000000; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/larkspur.jpg); background-position: top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; font-family:'book antiqua', 'bookman old style', georgia, serif; font-size:13px; color:#333333; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:2px; line-height:14px; width:400px; text-align:justify; } </style>[/html]
03-09-2010, 02:17 AM
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