Post by Ninette De La Magnifique on Dec 5, 2006 16:55:05 GMT 8
Ninette: The peculiar jingle of bells resounded eerily, permeating the air with a promise of chaos to come. The lone jesterette would stir upon the roof of an abandoned warehouse, having idled into the realm of abysmal dreams. Long eyelashes fluttered, revealing orbs of sapphire hues as the lithe form slid off from the rust-riddled roof, abandoning its reclined state to sit upright. Slender limbs were then raised above painted face; stretching beyond her head in a languid stretch while issuing a tentative glance around the empty quarters as the evening breeze whistling nonchalantly; and amid it all, there were voices. No, they were whispers. Thousands of whispers uttering syllables of an ancient tongue unspoken in this material world. The language so dark it could only be known to the denizen of the Underworld. Curiosity begins to gnaw at her dark mind. "So bad.. so sad" Came a soft whisper as she peels her form effortlessly from the precarious ledge. Perfectly formed nostrils then flared as myriad of auras begin to assault her senses; orbs would roll within their sockets as eyelids fluttered shut; a fist rose to only be jammed into gaping mouth to kill the spasmodic urge to scream in glorious pain. A tentative pause before eyes were opened and the lithe form leaps into the cold air; a half somersault in mid-air, mimicking the movement of a trapeze artist, before silent feet touches the hard ground, bringing about a thin cloud of dust to rise. A hand rose to pet the hidden Ruby shard settling snugly between full mounds, a wicked smile stretching full lips as she glances about the abandoned row of warehouses. “So bad, so sad..” She would whisper to none but a passing breeze before an eerie giggle would resound though naught movement would be seen from painted lips. The silver and crimson clad figure broke into a brisk walk to the disembodied music of a ghostly mandolin.
lim_frostwhisper: The jingling he had missed and blissfully so, in ignorance he dwelt on the better days and the dichromatic spheres refused to see the sorry state of the land -- innocent, child like, he wandered through the maze of abandoned structures paying little attention to the warnings or the whisper of his own ever fleeting ghost. His presence easily announced by the scratching of hard leathers against harsh, crusted, unbroken soil coupled with the dissonant ruckus produced by an ungrateful salient hand that rattled along the long rusted metal exterior of those said warehouses. The man paused in midstep, something stirred within the distance but something more perturbing stirred within - what was it? Fear? Uncertainty? Excitement? He heard his own voice, his own ghost, it had spoken about experience and the possibilities, it rattled its chatter-box onwards with the qualities of an absent minded professor. "Where am I?" He vocalized, his voice indicating youth, vigor, a sense of total immersion and confusion. "I don't ... remember this path." He spoke the words deliberately and aloud, he seemd to be comforted by the ring and echo of his own voice - the desolation of the locale did little to quell the anxieties that would plague any animal trapped in such an open cage of metal and edifice. The offensive hand returned to its masters side clutching the fabrics of an old worn robe bringing it tightly against the lithe frame. Silvery strands obscured his vision but he dared not to move them away. Within the little fearful mind of his, a little mouse spoke, You are doomed.
Ninette: She followed him, walking within the darkness lent by the absence of the Moon Goddess, weaving in and out of the material world like a shadow; watching gasping with sheer ecstasy as his tan digits touches blindly against abandoned structures, hearing the forlorn wails of lost souls with every step that he took. Her eyelids would recede just as he spoke out loud, as if addressing her almost invisible form; his query so sincere, so innocent, it would have rendered a mortal tearful. Could he have felt her presence? Ah! For the sweet, warm energy that swarms inside his mortal vessel. But what was that that she felt so strange but darkly familiar yet the potency was lost? Something was amiss with this mortal. Something was missing. Amethyst pools would glistened as eyelids fluttered once again as he turned away once again. “Hmm?” She would issue a soft hum as she slips out of the shadows, wrapping arms around naked torso, letting strands of dark hair fall to rest against pale cheeks. "Why, hello there, stranger." The whisper-like syllables floated in the air. Painted lips frozen in a smile. "There is naught a person alive in this part of the forsaken world. You must be lost, no?"
lim_frostwhisper: A vivid assault of emotions and emotions, in the swelling tides of madness a voice whispered, Danger! And it too was consumed in the wails of endless experiences - surreal as it was, he knew it to be real. The digits paled and trembled as though they had felt the residual nature of the shadowy world beneath, the screams, the emotions, the tragedy all funneled into a singularity - he shivered, that voice is.. unreal. He replied as though it were someone else, a puppet and he the master, "Lost?" He whirled about - confused. "No, I am not lost, this place is not lost - we are not lost but you are.. I think." Reality was a blur and he had nearly lost himself in that swirling image - where was she? He could feel his bones shiver, something was far more unnatural than he and that begged him to exercise caution. The eyes of his, beastial in design, narrowed and bounced from one subject matter to another until finally homing in on the shadow-that-walks. His voice now carried the characteristic of paranoia. "I am not lost, what do you want? Who are you?" It snapped.
lim_frostwhisper: The jingling he had missed and blissfully so, in ignorance he dwelt on the better days and the dichromatic spheres refused to see the sorry state of the land -- innocent, child like, he wandered through the maze of abandoned structures paying little attention to the warnings or the whisper of his own ever fleeting ghost. His presence easily announced by the scratching of hard leathers against harsh, crusted, unbroken soil coupled with the dissonant ruckus produced by an ungrateful salient hand that rattled along the long rusted metal exterior of those said warehouses. The man paused in midstep, something stirred within the distance but something more perturbing stirred within - what was it? Fear? Uncertainty? Excitement? He heard his own voice, his own ghost, it had spoken about experience and the possibilities, it rattled its chatter-box onwards with the qualities of an absent minded professor. "Where am I?" He vocalized, his voice indicating youth, vigor, a sense of total immersion and confusion. "I don't ... remember this path." He spoke the words deliberately and aloud, he seemd to be comforted by the ring and echo of his own voice - the desolation of the locale did little to quell the anxieties that would plague any animal trapped in such an open cage of metal and edifice. The offensive hand returned to its masters side clutching the fabrics of an old worn robe bringing it tightly against the lithe frame. Silvery strands obscured his vision but he dared not to move them away. Within the little fearful mind of his, a little mouse spoke, You are doomed.
Ninette: She followed him, walking within the darkness lent by the absence of the Moon Goddess, weaving in and out of the material world like a shadow; watching gasping with sheer ecstasy as his tan digits touches blindly against abandoned structures, hearing the forlorn wails of lost souls with every step that he took. Her eyelids would recede just as he spoke out loud, as if addressing her almost invisible form; his query so sincere, so innocent, it would have rendered a mortal tearful. Could he have felt her presence? Ah! For the sweet, warm energy that swarms inside his mortal vessel. But what was that that she felt so strange but darkly familiar yet the potency was lost? Something was amiss with this mortal. Something was missing. Amethyst pools would glistened as eyelids fluttered once again as he turned away once again. “Hmm?” She would issue a soft hum as she slips out of the shadows, wrapping arms around naked torso, letting strands of dark hair fall to rest against pale cheeks. "Why, hello there, stranger." The whisper-like syllables floated in the air. Painted lips frozen in a smile. "There is naught a person alive in this part of the forsaken world. You must be lost, no?"
lim_frostwhisper: A vivid assault of emotions and emotions, in the swelling tides of madness a voice whispered, Danger! And it too was consumed in the wails of endless experiences - surreal as it was, he knew it to be real. The digits paled and trembled as though they had felt the residual nature of the shadowy world beneath, the screams, the emotions, the tragedy all funneled into a singularity - he shivered, that voice is.. unreal. He replied as though it were someone else, a puppet and he the master, "Lost?" He whirled about - confused. "No, I am not lost, this place is not lost - we are not lost but you are.. I think." Reality was a blur and he had nearly lost himself in that swirling image - where was she? He could feel his bones shiver, something was far more unnatural than he and that begged him to exercise caution. The eyes of his, beastial in design, narrowed and bounced from one subject matter to another until finally homing in on the shadow-that-walks. His voice now carried the characteristic of paranoia. "I am not lost, what do you want? Who are you?" It snapped.